


Coup de Foudre

by lori (zakhad), zakhad



Series: Faire de l'avenir un bon passé [2]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-23 08:58:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10716264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zakhad/pseuds/lori, https://archiveofourown.org/users/zakhad/pseuds/zakhad
Summary: It takes a moment to fall, but it takes a while to decide.I know it says it's the second in the series. But it's really parallel from about chapter 14 or so of Les Liasons dangereuses.Coup de Foudre = Love at first sight.





	1. Chapter 1

Beverly gazed at Tasha sprawled naked in the bed, and wondered.

It was this way sometimes -- maybe it was wrong, but for better or for worse she tended to dive in head first. Jack had been an exception to her lack of patience with relationship building efforts.

She quietly gathered the pieces of her uniform, considered it, then replicated a robe. Her quarters were only down the corridor and it was the middle of the night. She could slip into her bedroom without waking Wes if she was careful and there wouldn't be anyone on this deck until the shift change in five hours. But she hesitated -- she'd never liked when someone just left.

"Tasha?" She leaned in, touched Tasha's shoulder. "Tasha."

"Mm?" Tasha's half-awake face was adorable. Messy hair, smeared lipstick, bleary eyes, and then a smile. "Bev?"

"I'm going to my quarters. See you tomorrow?"

A bigger smile flitted across her lips. "Okay. Tomorrow night?"

Beverly smiled at her sleepy lover. "Maybe. It depends -- I think Wes is already getting suspicious."

Tasha laughed a little, stretching languidly and rolling to face her, tucking her hands under her head. "We could just tell him."

"Not yet." She didn't want to confess how the thought of talking to Wes about Tasha made her stomach tie itself up in knots. She'd never had a relationship that she'd felt stable in -- at least to the point that she told her only child. The few she'd started had self-destructed before she'd gotten around to that. "I want to keep you to myself for a while."

Tasha rolled her eyes and grinned -- it was a lovely blush that crept up her fair face. "If you insist."

"See you later."

"You will indeed," Beverly murmured, swooping down to plant a kiss on Tasha's lips.

She made it out and down the corridor without incident, and into her quarters. Wes had left his bedroom door open but he was snoring loud enough that she could hear him. Smiling, she went in her bedroom, thanking the nearly-silent door. She tossed yesterday's uniform on the floor at the foot of the bed, went in her bathroom, ducked into the sonic shower briefly, and put on a nightgown. Under the covers she went. To lay there staring at the stars outside the viewport over her head.

One week, it had taken them. One week to get in bed together and learn how to make each other cry out, or moan, or laugh.

This was something she'd never expected when she took this posting. She'd been considering a lateral transfer within Starfleet Medical, from her position in one of the clinics -- there'd been a position in research. She had always enjoyed research. Then the formal invitation -- just an announcement in typical bureaucratic language -- showed up, and she'd looked at the commanding officer, and remembered Jean-Luc. There had been moments over the years when he had looked at her and something about his eyes made her heart do a lopsided little dance, then he would look away, and she would say nothing, and he said nothing. Because she was married, of course. Sitting in her apartment on Earth confronted with the posting on the _Enterprise_ she'd felt her heart do that little lopsided dance once more at the thought -- just a hint at the possibility that Jean-Luc might have chosen her because he still had that something about his eyes.

But then it was all different. Not just because he started to watch Deanna, but because that look wasn't there at all -- their first meeting had been awkward, and that had set the tone for everything after. The damned polywater had doubled the awkward, almost led to something she was certain she would have regretted. She'd babbled like an idiot about being deprived of having a husband -- what he must have thought! She knew he'd felt terrible about Jack's death, blamed himself, and saying that had been extremely cruel, especially after her ham-handed flirting with him. They'd never discussed it again, and she hadn't tried, because for weeks after the charged encounter with her captain and old friend, his eyes had developed the habit of bouncing off her and landing to the left of her face, to the right, and bringing it up had been the last thing on her mind. She only hoped he would relax around her again, someday. Asking him to spend time with Wesley had been, yes, awkward -- still the word for it.

Until Deanna. And now she was witnessing what she had never believed possible. Jean-Luc Picard was beginning to thaw. Jack must be rolling and doing backflips in his grave. He'd never have believed this. Jean-Luc had actually taken care of Deanna during her recovery from the injuries she'd sustained while defending him. And the relationship had only progressed from there. The longer it went on, the happier Jean-Luc appeared to be -- and Deanna was fairly radiating contentment. It drove Will crazy, somewhat, but that was starting to fade over time. Beverly had no problems with Deanna being so happy, or Jean-Luc, but she'd never have expected it, and in her office sometimes when things were quiet in sickbay, she remembered sometimes that stern proclamation Jean-Luc had made often, that he would never marry, in response to Jack's occasional tease that some woman might be of interest to Jean-Luc. No, it was still difficult to believe.

Then again... she never would have believed herself, with another woman.

All from a drunken sloppy kiss and a fondle on Deanna's couch.

She exhaled noisily and rolled on her side, and resolutely closed her eyes.

Tasha showed up there. Slender, athletic, eager to please, doing things that Beverly hadn't imagined -- incredible, delicious things.

"Hopeless," she whispered to herself, smiling.

It didn't matter, she decided, that it was going along so fast. She'd enjoy the ride until it stopped, or became a different kind of ride.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In The Naked Now Tasha goes to Troi's quarters and is caught by Troi rifling through the closet looking at clothing. She doesn't seem quite certain about clothes, or how to go about other things judging from the way she saucily flirts around the corridors until she happens upon... Data. Who's possibly the one person on board (over 18) with less experience than she has.

"I guess we'll have to reserve the holodeck in advance from now on," Tasha said as they sat down in Ten Forward with their drinks. She looked around again. Nervous.

Beverly smiled politely at a couple of people who nodded her way as they edged past. This was the only unclaimed table -- all the smaller tables were taken by couples. Interesting how that would happen on ships. It was a pattern, Deanna had said once -- within the first year of the crew being assigned to a new vessel many pairings would form. Statistics said many would break up over time, but that some permanent bonds would inevitably form -- the average was the same for any population.

"I'm glad we came," Beverly said. "Oh -- hi Sandy," she said to the waitress that arrived with a tray of empties. "I'll have the usual, thanks."

"I'll have an Altairian pink slipper." Tasha was prone to ordering random drinks to try them -- on her own exploration of the galaxy, one glass at a time.

As Sandy wandered off toward the bar, Tasha smiled across the table. Beverly's heart went lopsided and started to thud.

"You're so pretty tonight," Beverly said, leaning forward so she would be heard over the noise of many conversations.

Tasha flushed prettily and shrugged, like a teenaged girl in love, and it brought forth what certainly must have been the galaxy's silliest grin. "I was just thinking the same about you," she said, with such sincerity that Beverly put her hand on Tasha's thigh under the table and leaned to kiss her briefly, lightly, on the lips. Tasha made a noise, not quite a giggle, and kept blushing.

"Maybe we should go back up to that conference room on deck two," she murmured.

"Hey, lovebirds," came the cheerful, slightly-teasing voice of Will Riker. They pulled apart to look up at him -- he wore one of those shirts, open at the neck and showing a hint of chest hair. It was a strange block print in blue and darker blue, that made her question Will's taste.

"Hi, Will," Beverly said breezily. She was sure there was a little more color in her cheeks than usual. "How are you? Hello Randi," she added as Will's new girlfriend (apparently, judging from the fact that she had been spotted with him multiple times over the past weeks and there were no current assignments that would make work an excuse) strolled over and attached herself to him.

"I hope you enjoy it -- we have some long sets to play. Been learning a lot of new material." He gave Randi a warm appreciative smile. "Glad you could make it."

"I asked Glen to monitor my project," Randi said.

From the corner where the drums were set up someone called out Will's name -- he clasped Randi's hand briefly, nodded to Beverly and Tasha and jogged off to grab up his trombone from its stand.

"I'm going to find a chair down front, closer in," Randi said as she followed at a more sedate pace. She was a tall leggy blond, and tonight she wore a black dress.

Tasha's hand found Beverly's under the table and she leaned again. "Did you want to do something else?"

"Oh, no, I like live music. Also it's fun to watch Will -- have you ever been to one of these?" Beverly didn't remember seeing Tasha there, when there was music.

"Not really. I hadn't made that many friends at first." Tasha looked down again. "And then I didn't like to come alone."

Beverly squeezed her fingers, and thought about the kissing and fondling and soft sighs they'd exchanged just half an hour before, how everything had worked and she felt good about being with Tasha. These moments of Tasha being shy or insecure were difficult for her to manage. She knew the security officer was confident and strong -- she wished this side of her were as bold and solid.

Their drinks came as the first set started. Tasha nodded her head along with most of those gathered in time with the music. It was fairly decent music. And then Jean-Luc and Deanna arrived as the song finished and the crowd applauded, and Beverly took advantage of the lull. "Well, hello, strangers. Good to see you."

"Are they any good?" Deanna asked, tucking her skirt as she sat down with her back to the band. Jean-Luc took the fourth chair at the round table, on her right. That led to Tasha sitting on his right, trying very hard to not be gleeful and evil in his direction. Tasha was quite interested in the liaison between the captain and the counselor; Beverly knew she and Deanna were close friends.

"I really couldn't say," Beverly said, with a little too obvious of an eye roll. "I'm no music critic."

"Will tries, but I suspect he hasn't practiced much since last time," Deanna said, glancing over her shoulder -- the small ensemble was starting to play again, something jazzy but not Dixieland. Guinan's other helper, Dina, appeared then to take their orders. When she went away to get their drinks, Deanna turned to stare at Tasha.

"Sorry," Tasha muttered, trying to stop grinning. Then she wrinkled her nose. "I thought you said you were too tired to come?"

"I took a nap," Deanna said, straight-faced. Beverly almost laughed. Jean-Luc was worse at keeping his face straight and looked down, not unlike the way Tasha did, but without the blushing or the little salacious smile.

"Oo-oooh, I see," Tasha drawled, nodding sagely.

Jean-Luc looked upset in his usual understated way. "Should we find somewhere else to sit?"

Deanna turned a subdued smile on Jean-Luc. He seemed to settle down with just that look. "I'm not sure there is anywhere else to sit. I've never seen it this crowded."

"We were hoping it would thin out after the dinner hour," Tasha said. "I think it's gotten worse since we've been here."

"Maybe Will is paying everyone to come?" Deanna looked up as Dina put drinks in front of them. "Thank you."

Jean-Luc pointed at her glass full of layered neon colors. "What is that?"

"So suspicious," Deanna said. "We can't get alcohol in Ten Forward, so no need to be concerned that I'll be drunk."

An interesting interaction, Beverly thought. Jean-Luc snorted into his tea. Tasha was grinning again. Behind Deanna, someone arrived, casting a shadow on her. She angled her head right to look up and back, at Dave Ayers. Poor Dave -- Beverly had completed his physical earlier in the month, enduring his flirting while she'd done so, and then he'd approached her again in Ten Forward. It had taken a lot to dissuade him. It seemed he was one of those cliche socially-awkward scientists who needed hints applied with cricket bats.

"Hi, Counselor," he exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of his feet once. "Nice to see you."

"Lieutenant," she scolded gently.

He grinned on, oblivious. "Want to come dance with me?" He waved a thumb to his left, indicating a few people who had started to dance in the space in front of the band, which played on merrily.

"I don't dance. Sorry." She turned back to Jean-Luc, who was watching her with some ire and showing it only with a raised eyebrow, at her, as he did his best to ignore the lieutenant.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

Deanna leaned again to stare up at the man. "I already bought myself one," she said flatly. It wasn't even possible to buy drinks, in Ten Forward, but it was common to offer as a way of expressing interest.

Dave had been in the process of bouncing again, and went flatfooted. He backed a step and left, forthwith.

"You said he was dense. I guess you were right," Tasha said, waving her half-gone synthale.

"I told him to leave me alone," Beverly said. "You were nicer about it than I was."

Deanna shook her head ruefully, and smiled at Jean-Luc. "Do you enjoy jazz?"

"Not my favorite kind of music," he confessed.

"So you're here for the company," Beverly said with a mercenary grin. "You must have finally gotten lonely, sitting alone reading your moldy old books."

"It took a little more motivating than that, to pry him out," Deanna said. Then she glanced at Jean-Luc, almost apologetically, and did what Beverly guessed was the intentional opposite of innuendo. "I had to promise him Will's ability to play the trombone had improved. I'm afraid that might have been an exaggeration."

Tasha laughed loudly at it -- possibly with more amusement than was warranted. Jean-Luc gave Deanna a look that made Beverly almost turn away. Jean-Luc Picard didn't love anyone that way -- he certainly didn't show it in a crowded room. But it was there in his eyes, and Deanna mirrored the look in hers. There was an energy between them that reminded Beverly of how it had been with Jack. And Tasha noticed. Her mirth dwindled, and she glanced at Beverly and rolled her eyes at them.

The music played on, and Deanna commented on the pantsuit Tasha wore -- the green and gold was a little much for Ten Forward, but Beverly supposed they didn't have too many other opportunities to really dress up. There was a little chatter between the friends about clothes, which Tasha seemed to be anxious about; it was as though the uniform was reassuring and comforting and familiar but anything else was new territory, the younger woman obsessed about off duty clothing with an odd edgy anxiety that suggested it was more about that insecurity than anything else.

Jean-Luc drank his tea, and seemed content to sit watching the band and seem mildly interested in the music. Like all of them, he clapped after each song. Beverly would glance his way from time to time. At one point as another swinging, lazy jazz piece began, he actually looked back at her, caught her eye, and they spent a moment gazing at each other. She gave him a knowing smile and a wink. She almost fell off her chair when, instead of scowling, he did the same right back at her.

Deanna's head turned toward him as the latest song came to an end, and as the clapping died down, he glanced at her and nodded. "Let's go," he murmured.

"Good night," Deanna said as she smiled with genuine affection at both of them. "Have a good evening."

"You too," Tasha said. She watched them rise and head for the door. "They read each other's minds or something, I swear."

"It seems that way, but that's what you'd expect with a Betazoid, isn't it?"

"It's good to see her happy that way."

"You really like Deanna a lot." That comment elicited a strange reaction; Tasha stared off at the bar, at the crowd of people sitting in a line chatting and laughing. "Tasha?"

Tasha turned to gaze at her with wide blue eyes.

"Something wrong?"

A trembling smile. "Naw."

Beverly wondered sometimes. Tasha would be somewhat forthcoming, but sometimes at odd times she hesitated. Beverly almost commented that she wished Tasha would be more open -- it isn't as though she would judge

"I guess there are plenty of people who would want to be in her shoes," Beverly commented diffidently, wondering if it would hit the mark. She knew Tasha looked up to the captain, thought there might be a crush on him somewhere lurking, and Tasha's most recent blush seemed to confirm it, but then she shrugged and looked Beverly in the eye as if bracing herself for battle.

"Or his."

Beverly found herself tuning out the noise around them. That wasn't a casual observation. "Let's go," she said, pushing back her chair a little.

The corridor was almost as busy, but miraculously they had the lift to themselves. Beverly asked for deck eight and they went to Tasha's quarters. Once behind closed doors, she turned to Tasha.

"You don't have to be alarmed, I just wanted somewhere to talk privately," she said with a smile she hoped was reassuring. "That sounded like you had a crush on Deanna. Which is also understandable. I think half the crew does."

Tasha shrugged, and hugged herself tightly. "There's -- "

"Tasha?"

"There was kind of a betting pool, actually," she said quietly. "Don't tell her about it. I only found out second hand myself. Overheard someone."

"A _what_? I thought this was a ship full of professionals!"

Tasha's side-sloping grin was almost amusing in itself. "Who are sometimes bored silly."

"What was the pool about?"

Tasha shrugged again. "Who would sleep with her first. I knew they'd all lose especially the ones that were determined to make it happen. She doesn't like aggressive men. And you can be sure no one bet on the captain."

Beverly laughed out loud for a minute. "What a great deflection from admitting you had a crush on her. Tasha, it's all right -- I don't expect you to be... whatever. I've had a past, with different relationships with people, including a marriage. I even -- "

It was her turn to gape. Caught flatfooted that she had so casually gotten to the point of confessing something she'd hidden forever. But she knew Tasha was trustworthy. Whether this _whatever_ worked out between them or not.

"I had a thing for Jean-Luc," she said, holding out her hands as if exposing the truth in her palms. "Not even a crush, more a thought of having one -- an attraction. I thought for a while that he might feel the same but that was obviously just imagination."

"Then I guess we're even," Tasha said. She seemed relieved.

"I guess now I'm just curious -- did you ever...."

"With Deanna? I figured she sensed how I felt, and no, she never reacted to it at all. A little obvious why, I guess." Tasha sashayed closer and ran a fingertip along the neckline of Beverly's dress. "Doesn't matter now."

"Tasha...."

Before she knew it, they were kissing again. Tasha was, she had guessed from the first, inexperienced. She seemed torn between smothering and savoring. Instead of stopping and giving a lesson Beverly slowed her down by slowing down, and it worked, just as well as it had last night when Tasha's hands fumbled feverishly at her clothes. Tasha was an eager lover, wanting to please. It was so easy to lose herself in the moment.

And so she did. For a while. And of course she remembered she had a son, and they parted -- when she went into her quarters Wes was still up, playing with his tractor beam. "All finished with the physics?" she asked.

"Yeah, Mom. Did you have fun in Ten Forward?" Wesley grinned at her with unusual levels of amusement.

"Of course. The jazz band is only getting better, and the place was full of people."

"Who was your date?"

Beverly was removing her earrings as she started for her room, but hesitated and half-turned to stare at her son. "What?"

"Mom, you came home late and your hair's a mess. You never do that unless you're on a date."

"It's late, yes, and you need to get to sleep, young man." She made a shooing motion with her hand.

"You could bring him home with you, it's not like I'm six," Wes exclaimed. He stood and levitated the padd toward his bedroom. "I get it. Really. I wouldn't even care if he spent the night."

Beverly strode into her bedroom without a reply, and glanced in the mirror -- maybe he hadn't seen the way she was blushing, maybe he had. But she wasn't going to make a big deal out of it either way.

After a night of tossing and turning and eventually sleeping, she got up on her usual schedule and put on a uniform, and joined him for breakfast before he went to school. He talked about his next attempt at the entrance exam hopefully, listing out the next opportunities that might be close to where the ship was supposed to be. "I'm thinking I can pass it this time with higher scores."

"I know you can. I think you were just nervous the first time."

"Mom?"

She looked up from her dish of yogurt. "Wesley?"

"Is it Mr. Riker?"

Beverly pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at her son. "Are you done eating breakfast?"

Wes sighed and resolutely chewed his cereal, and said nothing further. He knew better than to think badgering her would get him anywhere.

Unfortunately, she knew better than to think he would give up that easily. She resigned herself to ignoring his guesses as passively as she could, until she was ready for him to know. When that was, she wasn't certain.

She saw him off, and headed for the bridge herself. In the staff meeting, Tasha shot a dazzling smile at her across the table, and Beverly didn't hear a word for several minutes.

"Are you all right, Doctor?" Data asked, shattering the moment.

"I'm fine, thank you," she said smoothly, glancing at Data, who sat on her left. Then beyond at Will Riker, and the captain at the head of the table. Jean-Luc had a tolerant sort of weariness in his eyes as he cleared his throat and went on to talk about the colonists they would be delivering to some world that had completed the terraforming process in some sector she hadn't heard of yet.

Instead of looking at Tasha again, Beverly gazed at Deanna -- who smiled happily back at her, and made her hope no one would comment on her blushing.

At least that much came true. But after the meeting ended and they were all leaving the observation lounge, Will hung back and nudged her with his elbow. "You need 'keeping it in control' lessons, Dr. Crusher."

"Will," she exclaimed under her breath, scandalized. "Not helping!"

Tasha followed her as she almost ran for the lift on the way to her sickbay. "Sorry," she whispered, as they topped the ramp.

Beverly turned to look at her tentatively. "He's right," she said quietly.

Tasha nodded, solemn now. "I'll do better. From now on. I promise. It's too important to do anything else."

Beverly heard the undercurrent of fear in that, and smiled. "Okay. We'll do better. See you later."

Once in the lift, she started to inhale deeply, reaching for her professional calm doctor self. Jagged, that was how she felt. Things were new, and Tasha was jittery. But they could even out given a chance. By the time she greeted Alyssa Ogawa as she swept into sickbay, she was herself again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting to the main conflict for the story. If you were expecting to get lemons and sexy times, well, it's in there too, but I generally write about people who have relationships as well as sex. 
> 
> Some backstory for those who've forgotten season one, from Memory Alpha. I have met a seven year old with a story similar to Tasha's -- a younger sibling to care for and wandering back alleys picking food out of trash cans at an incredibly early age. The psychological problems children have after that kind of neglect are really quite severe. The seven year old was thrown out of school because she tried to stab someone with scissors. She had no real connection with anyone and showed no empathy or sense of right and wrong. If Star Trek were realistic, Tasha would not have any of the success she has here....
> 
> Tasha was born in 2337 on the failed colony world of Turkana IV. Her sister, Ishara, was born five years later. Both of their parents were killed shortly following Ishara's birth, after which they were looked after for a few months by "some people" who later abandoned them, leaving Tasha to care for herself and her sister. (TNG: "Legacy") Tasha had to avoid rape gangs and terrible violence just to scavenge for the bare necessities of life, such as food. One of the few bright spots in her life was finding a cat, which she attempted to protect while being chased by a rape gang. (TNG: "Where No One Has Gone Before") Drug use was also commonplace. Tasha apparently resorted to drugs as an escape at some point, but later remembered that they were of more harm to her than good. (TNG: "Symbiosis")
> 
> Although Ishara decided to remain on the planet and eventually joined the Coalition, Tasha managed to find a way off Turkana IV in 2352 by the age of fifteen. Ishara and Tasha never saw one another again. Tasha began to attend Starfleet Academy soon after her escape. (TNG: "Legacy") She credited Starfleet with saving her from her previous life. (TNG: "Encounter at Farpoint")

Beverly went in Tasha's quarters and found her girlfriend putting a couple of glasses on the table next to a couple of plates. Tasha whirled and stood there as Beverly approached to collect the hug and kiss. Only the kiss deepened and became very intense, for a few minutes.

"I've missed you," Tasha whispered when they broke the kiss and gazed into each other's eyes. It'd been a busy few days. Beverly hadn't made it to karate, and Wes had been taking finals so she'd stayed at home evenings to help him by reading questions for him to answer and helping him with his biology, which wasn't his favorite subject.

"What are we having?" They took turns surprising each other with the general goal of trying foods from every world of the Federation, within the bounds of things edible to humans.

"I thought we would try Vulcan. Never had it before."

Beverly watched her return to the replicator for another dish of something. She already knew she didn't like Vulcan -- the Vulcan palate preferred foods that were bitter or bland to the human palate, generally speaking. There were a lot of things like this that Tasha tried to assume.

But she bit her tongue and sat down to try. As on Bolian night, they ended up recycling everything and getting something they preferred. Tasha laughed -- nervously, Beverly thought, though she was trying to laugh it off. When they were done Tasha volunteered to do away with all the dishes, and asked, "Want to go to the gym? I know you've missed a few classes, I could give you a private aikido lesson."

"No, let's sit here for a bit, talk," Beverly said, waving at Tasha's couch.

"Okay." That, too, made her tense.

Beverly knew as she sat down that she looked just as tense -- sitting forward and fidgeting with her hands a little. "I really enjoy being with you, Tasha."

"Oh." Tasha tried hard, but lost the struggle to keep her face straight. And then she was already crying a few tears, and frustrated with herself for it. She hated crying.

"I just think there are some things we need to work on," Beverly went on using that soft, warm voice she'd so often used on a younger, more flighty and volatile Wesley when he was sobbing over something. "You have no idea how much I appreciate how attentive you are to me. How hard you try to make me happy."

It made the tears abate slightly. She'd told Beverly about the occasional attempt at a relationship she'd had, at the Academy. How they'd all failed due to the demands of being a cadet -- but Beverly suspected the truth lay more in what she'd been observing in Tasha, the extreme anxiety and uncertainty, that probably young cadets had no idea how to handle and resorted to an easy out. Tasha's blue eyes studied her earnestly. As if she hoped to learn the real solution to it all.

"We both jumped in with both feet, and it's been fun. But I got to thinking about it and I realized we'd never talked about what we each want from this -- if it's just fun, or if we're expecting to move into a real relationship."

Tasha opened her mouth, and her eyes traveled off somewhere over Beverly's right shoulder. She seemed to be speechless. After a few minutes she said, "What do you want?"

"To have fun, but also to be your friend no matter what. I've really enjoyed getting to know you these past months. And yes, I think I'd like to call it a relationship. I really liked being married -- but being married is something to think about later, after we discover whether or not we can manage a closer relationship."

Tasha smiled at it but lost the smile as she continued to think. Her eyes darted back to Beverly's and glanced off again, as she started to look sad. "What do you think we need to work on?"

God, why had she opened the conversation with that? "Tasha... I think you worry too much. I'd like to see you not be so anxious about what I'll think, or what I'll say. I keep hoping you'll relax and enjoy everything we do, instead of trying so hard."

Tasha blinked. That wasn't what she'd expected. "Is that all?"

Beverly grinned at that, but after a moment realized that was the saddest thing she'd ever heard. There was no humor in Tasha's question. "What do you mean, is that all? Did you think you were doing something wrong?"

"I... kind of. I know I'm not -- I've never been married, and I never really thought -- I was only thinking about Starfleet for a long time, not about this kind of relationship. But -- "

"But?"

"I really like you," Tasha blurted, blushing again. "I really wanted...."

"You want me to be happy. But you're not -- you don't have to work so hard, Tasha. I really don't care what kind of food we have for dinner, we can just get what we want when we want it. You don't have to be so attentive to me to the point that we're not both having fun. I end up wishing you were having fun with me instead of worrying. Remember before, when we'd go out as friends and you were having fun? I really enjoyed that. I thought that was what this would be like -- teasing and talking about things, laughing, all of it and then we'd just have sex too."

Tasha shrugged -- it was that extreme hunching of the shoulders that was more of an uncomfortable squirm, and it said the anxiety was in full force. "I thought that's what it would be like too. But... sometimes you don't seem happy. And then I wonder if it was something I just said."

Beverly smiled at that, thinking about the times Tasha had been caught up in what they were doing and more herself. "I love the way you are when you're not worried about things like that. Really, sometimes I'm thinking about a difficult case, or even about something I said that I had second thoughts about. I'm relaxing and sometimes focusing on other parts of my life. That much is different -- I want you to just relax into being together too. I don't expect you to focus on me every second we're together. When you're happy, I'm happy."

"But that's how I feel. I want you to be happy." Tasha stopped wringing her hands and slid closer along the couch, and took Beverly's hand. "I'm sorry I make it difficult."

"You don't -- I know you don't mean to but that's what makes it difficult, you know? I don't want to criticize when I can tell it's just you wanting to be with me." Beverly put her right hand over their joined hands and leaned a little. "Please?"

Tasha nodded, rubbing her lips together thoughtfully, then smiled. "Okay, I'll try."

"Why don't we see if there's something going on in Ten Forward? Or just go sit and have a drink together. Wes is at the gym with a couple of his friends, we'll have time to come back here and...."

That put a spark in her clear blue eyes and Tasha came in for a kiss, a fond and affectionate one. "You want to change?"

They were both still in uniform. Beverly stood and took off the lab coat. "I could go either way. I'm fine -- you know I think you're beautiful no matter what you wear."

That had a bigger impact than Beverly expected. She blushed and nervously fidgeted but smiled happily and nodded. "Okay, let's just go."

Beverly could feel the tension in Tasha's arm and hand, as they held hands walking to the lift. Once inside she followed an impulse and kissed Tasha with fervor, pushing her against the wall. Some tiny voice in the back of her head whispered that it wasn't resolved, but she didn't care. Things would work out or not over time. Relationships weren't the kind of thing you could rush or push or force. And when things were good, they were very good indeed. Like Tasha's smile, as they parted and reeled out of the lift on deck ten.

"I love you," Tasha blurted.

Beverly stopped in the empty corridor and sighed. "I love you, too," she replied warmly. It was why she was going to give this a fighting chance, after all.

 

\-----------------

 

Tasha finished her morning exercise routine in the gym and hurried to shower and put on her uniform. Worf was on the bridge at tactical waiting for her to get there so he could take his turn. Starfleet gave all officers leeway to exercise during shift, especially security. She probably didn't need the extra work but it helped her burn off anxiety.

With her hair neatly combed back and her pips in place, she hurried for the bridge. Worf nodded brusquely and went into the lift at once. She gave the panel a once-over, noting ship's status -- everything was clear. They were on their way to Toriban, and Worf had a lot of pent up frustration and angst to work off. He'd struggled with confronting Konmel and Korris, and still seemed to be working through it. 

Below her line of sight, Will and the captain were talking about some of Will's adventures on the _Potemkin_. That would happen from time to time on the bridge, if the captain weren't in one of his moods. She'd noticed that lately he was less often lost in thought than before. But the occasional moments that Will casually mentioned Deanna's name, there was a slight hesitation in his response that was the only hint that there was still tension between them. 

Tasha thought about Beverly -- the problem of what to do about how she couldn't stop worrying about their relationship. She knew better than to let herself worry endlessly on duty, and kept refocusing on the panels in front of her. But last night's conversation still frightened her. Beverly had been reassuring and wonderful, but somehow Tasha had still gone to bed thinking it had to be a harbinger of something bad. It felt like she'd done something irreparable, the opposite of what she'd wanted to do, and while she'd been fine in Ten Forward talking about the random things they talked and laughed about, including another of Will Riker's fabulous off duty shirt choices as he sat in a far corner with Randi, afterward alone in her bedroom she'd started to take apart everything she said to her girlfriend with a critical ear.

This wasn't right, she told herself. She turned to one of the ensigns at the secondary stations behind her. Ensign Rappaport was security. "Take tactical," she said quietly.

She intended to go down to deck two and run around the corridor a couple of times to shake loose the obsessive thinking. It usually worked. As she rounded the deck a second time, on the way back to the turbolift, a door opened and there was Dr. Michetti. "Hello, Lieutenant Yar," the tall woman said with some surprise.

"Dr. Michetti," she replied diffidently, slowing as she did so.

"How are you?"

Tasha stopped. She wasn't certain why -- the psychologist still made her uncomfortable. She wanted to say she was fine, just as she always did when someone asked the question, but she couldn't.

Michetti continued to smile pleasantly, then stepped back and opened her door again with the movement. "Why don't you come in and talk about it?"

A wave of terror shuddered through her. But she had learned so very well not to show it. She routinely ran into danger while on duty. Before she thought about it her feet decided, and she was across the threshold into Michetti's office.

It was a little like Deanna's office, but in blue and green tones. Michetti sat down a polite distance from her on the couch. "What are you so stressed about?"

"Nothing duty related," Tasha said. She shrugged and clenched her fingers around each other to keep herself from fidgeting. "I don't know if that matters."

"It doesn't -- we're here to help anyone aboard with whatever is bothering them, Tasha. Is this about a personal relationship?"

"You probably saw me in Ten Forward with Dr. Crusher." Tasha had seen Michetti a couple of times while having drinks with Beverly.

Michetti nodded. "Beverly mentioned you to me, after the monthly meeting of our medical department -- Deanna and I are part of that department, you know. She appeared to be quite happy. Did something change?"

"I don't think so. I just -- "

Michetti waited while she tried to find the words. "May I attempt a guess?"

"Sure."

"You were very happy for a while, but you're starting to feel a great deal of anxiety because you are unsure of how it will all play out. You may be feeling as though there is something wrong with you."

Tasha wanted to deny it vehemently and yet, the words wouldn't pass her lips. It hit her like a punch to the gut. "How did you know?" she whispered. Her eyes burned but she was determined not to cry.

Michetti looked down, her smile going flat, her expression turning sad. "Humans have an unfortunately long history of abusing and neglecting children. There's a lot of research and case studies from the past few centuries to draw upon. What happened to you when you were a child had a great impact upon your ability to form meaningful relationships with others. However, there are ways of repairing and making the anxiety and fear go away, and learning to be -- "

"When can we start?"

Michetti's eyes went wide as they snapped up to meet Tasha's. "You could start right now. My schedule is open for a couple of hours."

"What kind of treatment are you talking about?" Tasha suppressed a shudder at going through more counseling such as what she'd endured when she was a cadet.

Michetti did as Deanna did so often, took a few seconds to think. "It would be a combination of methods. I would teach you some ways to cope -- I'm sure that the fears seem real, when you have them, but part of you knows better. Otherwise you'd have let them drive Beverly away before now. We'll have to discuss exactly what your symptoms are, of course, but I'd suppose that you would benefit from neurofeedback, perhaps some discussion of conflict resolution, and we could explore your expectations of intimate relationships. We might even do that with Beverly. I'm sure she'd be willing to participate."

Tasha frowned. The counselors at the Academy had put her through hours of talking about Turkana and her childhood and asked thousands of what seemed to be irrelevant questions. "Have you ever done this before?"

"You mean have I had a client with this kind of problem before. I can't say that I have, exactly. I've never met anyone from one of those worlds that still traumatizes children. But the principles and procedures are sound. Many have been helped. You will be the one doing the real work. I'm more of a coach than a doctor, helping you learn how to deal with this yourself."

That didn't sound so bad. Tasha took a deep breath and thought about Beverly, and decided. There really wasn't anything else to do. Whether or not her concerns were realistic, the fear itself was a problem -- Beverly had said so.

Michetti was smiling again. "You don't have to do this. You've proved this hasn't interfered with your performance as an officer. This is however one of those things that will eventually have an impact, because in the long term it's healthier for you to have solid relationships with friends, family -- those relationships are what we call social supports, and those are necessary for long term mental stability for any human. So important that they now allow families on starships despite the risks. But at this time, it's optional, and you can come one time or a dozen times -- it's up to you -- give it a try and see if it helps. Or you can leave today and never come back to see me. So give it some thought. All I want to do is help you."

"No. I'll do it. When do you want me to come in? I'm assuming you want me in weekly."

"If you want this time is fine."

Tasha nodded, settling this within herself -- once she decided to do something, she was committed, no second guessing. It was what had kept her in classes sometimes at the Academy. "What if I came in more than once a week, would that speed things up?"

Michetti's smile evaporated again -- but it wasn't surprise or dismay, or concern, but serious consideration. "The pace at which you progress is somewhat dependent on how much energy you put into it, yes. But this is one of those situations where I don't yet know enough to estimate how long you'll need to effect repairs so to speak."

"Then I want to start with twice a week."

Michetti rose from the couch. "I'll look at my schedule," she said, heading for her desk.


	4. Chapter 4

Tasha wanted to escape. It was quiet on the bridge -- nothing out of the ordinary. The captain had gone into the ready room and Will Riker was humming again, quietly, something jazzy -- probably not even aware he was doing so. It didn't even amuse her like it usually did.

It was a good thing the ship was simply traveling through space with nothing going on. She had to settle down.

Fortunately, Worf arrived, just as it was getting difficult not to fidget. "Lieutenant," he grumbled.

"Take tactical, Mr. Worf. I have something to take care of." Tasha sped off for the lift without waiting for his acknowledgment.

She ran the corridors on the lower decks for a while, not even changing out of uniform. It took the edge off. She had to change, before she did anything else, since the uniform now had great big damp patches in the pits, and she needed a shower. She hurried from the lift into her quarters, and halted just inside the door. There was Beverly, turning from the table, eyes wide in surprise.

"Serves me right for trying to surprise you," she said with a sigh. There was a bouquet of flowers in the center of the table.

Tasha smiled at it. "Thank you," she exclaimed, starting forward, but stopped. "I just went for a run, I really need a shower," she said apologetically.

Beverly laughed as she came and hugged her anyway. "Now I need one too."

Tasha tensed, and because she was in her arms Beverly noticed. "Everything all right?"

"I'm really worked up today," Tasha said quietly.

"Maybe you should talk to your doctor about that," Beverly murmured, her tone laden with innuendo.

It was easy to go along with it, take a shower with her, fondle and play and sigh, end up in bed together. She loved the way they touched each other. Beverly was so gentle and sweet. They sprawled together and forgot about things for a while. 

"I know nothing's going on, but I should probably get back," Tasha murmured at last, kissing along her lover's collar bone lazily.

"Might need another shower first." Beverly sounded smug.

"These down days are nice."

"If there's anything you want to talk about, you know I'll listen, right?"

Tasha slid off and rolled to lay on her back next to Beverly. "I know. It's not really anything I can put a finger on, though. Sometimes I just get keyed up."

Beverly was silent, and Tasha supposed that by now it was that difficult to lie to her.

"I... I've been going to see Dr. Michetti," she admitted. "And she's asking me about all the things that happened to me, when I was on Turkana. I guess it's really stirring up some things."

Now the silence was a different kind of tense. Beverly's voice was soft and tentative. "I wouldn't have expected that. I know you don't like counseling."

"I don't know what else to do. I can't quit feeling fear, or just tension, the wrong kind. I look at other people -- it has to be possible not to feel this way. I can tell Deanna feels confident, she doesn't say much about it but she doesn't have to. I want to be like that with you. Confident and happy."

"Deanna is a little different than both of us I think. I'm glad they're doing so well."

Tasha looked at the clock on the bedside table. "Do you think we're okay together?"

"We're fine. I think it will get better. Though I wish there was something I could do to help you with the anxiety." Beverly had already offered anti-anxiety medications. Tasha had rejected them for fear it would cloud her mind somehow, affect her adversely on duty.

Tasha rolled to face her. "I don't know. Part of me thinks I can beat the anxiety. But it's so overwhelming sometimes."

"Have you talked to Deanna about any of this?"

"Some of it. But... it's hard to talk about. I'm supposed to be chief of security! I'm supposed to be competent and -- not an emotional wreck."

"Of course you're competent."

Dr. Michetti had explained how both could be true. But she didn't want to talk about that. "I'm sorry I'm -- "

"Stop," Beverly exclaimed. "I wish you wouldn't keep apologizing. It's not really your fault. I know how hard it can be, I went through some counseling myself a couple of times. I had a tough time when my parents died."

Tasha had never heard her talk about that. She almost apologized, again, the way people did when that sort of thing was revealed, but bit her lip.

Beverly put a hand on Tasha's arm. Her voice, when she spoke again, was softer. "I guess I'm not sure how to help you with this."

"Maybe I'm hopeless," Tasha said without really thinking. But it felt true all of a sudden. A heavy weight settled in the pit of her stomach. Beverly was silent, and when Tasha turned her head to look she saw her lover had gone quiet and still, an odd look on her face that she thought must be disapproval. Tasha was in motion at once -- snatching up her various articles of clothing, hurrying into the bathroom. When she returned Beverly had started to get dressed again as well.

"Are you all right?" Beverly asked softly.

"This isn't fair to you," Tasha exclaimed all in a rush. She could feel her face getting hot. "It's hopeless."

Beverly was staring now, and a thought that she'd guessed wrong flitted through Tasha's mind -- but then Beverly's eyes dropped, did the little sideways dart that said she was uncomfortable. Her perfect red lips opened but closed again without a sound.

"I'm just a mess," Tasha said, another weight settling on her chest. Her heart had started to go running away, pattering rapidly.

"Tasha, don't," Beverly whispered. "Please don't do this. I want to help you."

"I'm -- " But her throat seemed to close up around the words, and she didn't know what they were going to be anyway. "I don't want to be without you, but I think -- maybe I need to sort myself out. Maybe I'm not ready for this. Maybe I should get my head on straight and not expect you to tolerate...."

After a few moments of silence, Beverly finished pulling on her uniform and reached for her lab coat, picking it up from the floor next to the bed and draping it over an arm. She came to Tasha and touched her chin, then kissed her on the lips gently. "Come talk to me when you're calmer, okay? I can tell you're really upset -- please don't make any decisions when you're like this?"

Tasha closed her eyes, hating the tears that were spilling down her cheeks, feeling misery and humiliation. She heard Beverly's quiet footsteps and then the door opening and closing. Dropping the uniform shirt on the floor, she fell to her knees and the first sob worked its way out of her.

Eventually, she pulled herself together. Made it back to the bridge -- there was an hour left in alpha shift, and it passed uneventfully. Riker gave her a curious glance at the shift change, as they both entered the lift; neither of them said a word on the way to deck eight. Once back in her quarters Tasha sat down in the living room, unable to go into the bedroom, and woke up there in the morning without a memory of having fallen asleep. The door chime was going off. Scowling, Tasha ran her fingers through her hair, tried not to squint, and admitted the person.

Deanna came in, dressed for a day of bridge duty and clients in one of her beautiful dresses. Concern wrinkled her brow and straightened her lips. "Tasha?"

"I'll be all right," Tasha blurted, sounding like nothing would ever be all right again.

Deanna's head tilted, but she didn't come any closer. She waited but nothing else was forthcoming. This was how their friendship stayed intact -- Deanna always knew when to push and when not to. Eventually she sighed. "You know where to find me if you need my help. You know I love you."

Tasha nodded, desperately wanting her friend to leave. Deanna's eyes filled with sympathy, even a few tears, and she turned to leave her alone again. After the door closed Tasha sat on her couch and cried, feeling utterly desolate in a way she hadn't in years.

When she arrived on time for the bridge, she was in uniform, and the only sign of her distress were the red rims around her eyes.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Tasha walked into the ready room when admitted, to inform the captain that she was done filing all her reports and ask for the rest of the shift off, to run down to sickbay. Beverly was injured on Minos. It was hard to keep herself calm, hard not to imagine or ask how badly. She hadn't seen Beverly as the doctor had been the first person beamed up, directly to sickbay.

The captain turned from his monitor and welcomed her with a tired smile. "Lieutenant, good work," he said.

As usual with him, the praise made her feel better. "Sir. I've finished the last report. May I be excused from the rest of the shift?"

Picard nodded, appraising her -- she still wore the filthy uniform with some tears in the sleeves from running around in the jungle. There was even a twig stuck to the top of one of her boots that she hadn't bothered with. He wasn't much better; in fact, he looked like he'd been buried. He'd been in a hole with Beverly, perhaps it had been a cave in. "Of course. You've earned it."

"Thank you, sir."

She turned to go. He surprised her by adding, "You should talk to her."

Tasha slowly turned around. Unable to speak to that, she blinked at him, wondering.

"Do not waste time, Tasha."

"Sir? I don't understand what you mean."

He smiled sadly. "Speaking as someone who wasted far too many years simply being stubborn -- fear can influence your thinking, distort it. There are things in life that are worth taking risks for."

"Thank you sir." She sounded to her own ears far too weak and small, saying that. She turned and hurried out.

She hardly saw anything as she left the bridge, her total focus now on what that meant -- of course it meant Beverly, her relationship with her. Her knees shook and her heart fluttered. "Deck ten."

Sickbay was quiet, and it felt odd to walk in and find Beverly on one of the beds instead of greeting her. Deanna turned as Tasha came in, smiled, and patted Beverly's shoulder, then departed at a rapid pace. Nurse Ogawa was off in a corner organizing things in one of the cabinets. 

Tasha watched Beverly's eyes as she approached slowly. "Hi," she whispered.

Beverly's smile was fragile and sad, but somehow happy at the same time. She moved her fingers vaguely toward Tasha. "Hi."

"I wanted -- to help," Tasha said. "Are you all right?"

"I am. You did help. You did your job."

Tasha laughed without sound, disbelieving. "You look terrible."

Beverly rolled her eyes. She was pale, and her hair was a mess. Slowly she sat up and swung her legs off the edge of the bed. At that point Ogawa returned with a robe. "Here you go, Doctor."

"Thank you, Alyssa."

Ogawa steadied Beverly as she slid off the bed to the floor and helped her put on the robe. "I'll be fine, Tasha will take me home," Beverly told the nurse, surprising Tasha.

"Just comm me if you need anything?" Ogawa said.

"All right. See you in the morning."

Ogawa watched them leave. Tasha walked next to Beverly, hesitant to touch her, wanting to, her hand moving that direction but retreating. Beverly walked slowly and swayed as she did so, hugging the robe around herself. She didn't seem to notice Tasha. Her gaze was on the floor.

"You said you were all right but you're not walking straight."

Beverly smiled at her then. "I'm exhausted. It's not easy being buried. Jean-Luc has a miserable bedside manner."

"At least he saved you."

"Oh, I'm not so sure, it seemed like he pitched me into that hole."

In the lift she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. Tasha finally took her arm when the door opened again. "Come on. Almost there." She steadied her and walked with her arm across Beverly's shoulders, and didn't so much as look at Will Riker as he passed them going the other way to the lift.

Beverly was nearly leaning on her as they entered the Crusher family's quarters. Wesley hurried over to her. "Mom, I was coming to get you -- I just came home to change after gym," he exclaimed.

"Lieutenant Yar brought me home, it's fine. Wes, I'm sorry but I'm really tired," Beverly said wearily. "Alyssa gave me some soup before I left. I'm going to bed early."

"Sure," Wes said. "Why don't you leave your door open so you can call me if you need me?"

Beverly reached up to put her hand on his cheek, leaned to kiss the other cheek, and turned to go to her room. "Good night."

Tasha followed her, determined now to see her all the way to her bed. She was still wobbling with each step. "Want to put something else on?"

"I don't care about that. Just want to get in bed." Beverly dropped the robe on the floor, sat on the edge of the bed, and then started to pull down the covers. Tasha went to help with that and waited while she put her legs in, then tucked her in. Before she thought about it she kissed her on the cheek.

Tasha stood over the bed and stared down at her, mouth open. She hadn't planned to do that.

Beverly smiled up at her. "Thanks, Tasha."

"You're welcome."

"You can stay, if you want," Beverly whispered. She started to roll on her side, as she usually was a side sleeper.

"Um."

"It's okay. Whatever you want. I'm not much company right now either way."

"Good night," Tasha managed, then touched Beverly's hair lightly before turning to go. She smiled fleetingly at Wesley and kept going so she wouldn't have to speak to him.

She was in the lift without thinking about it -- she felt dazed, not herself, dizzy and with a racing heart trying to rattle its way out of her chest. This wasn't what she'd expected.

Why wasn't Beverly upset with her for not speaking to her in weeks?

"Deck two."

Tasha wasn't certain whether she wanted to talk to Deanna or to Alia -- there were no other people aboard she had ever shared anything with, not one. But she stopped in the corridor. What was she doing? She hadn't spoken to Alia in more than a week. After that moment she'd decided she wasn't, shouldn't, be with Beverly any more, she hadn't attended her appointment with Alia either -- what was the point to enduring an hour of forced smiling and anxiety and attempting to talk about things she sort of understood but not really? If it wasn't helping her relationship that no longer existed why do it? All it seemed to do was stir up the overwhelming emotions instead of helping her manage them.

The days had crawled by. She'd focused on duty exclusively, on teaching aikido, practicing it more and more solo to work through the anguish she felt. She'd polite to Beverly despite the turmoil she felt -- at least in public, on the bridge, in meetings, she had the constraints of behaving properly to hold her together. But really she wanted to jump into Beverly's arms and beg for forgiveness. She was certain she'd broken not only her relationship but her friendship with her -- Beverly could hardly look at her.

But now she revised the supposed reason for that behavior. The only possibility was that Beverly had been waiting for Tasha to start talking again. She'd shown no anxiety or dismay or anger. Simply accepted Tasha's presence and responded when she'd spoken.

Tasha finally shook herself out of the trance, standing there silently in the corridor, and stared at the nearest door -- she'd ended up outside Deanna's office. And Deanna was in there and not in session according to the small panel at the right side of the door. Before she thought about it she touched the toggle.

The door opened, and Deanna invited her in without question or hesitation, gave her Assam -- the strong bracing tea was enough to somewhat settle her -- and then Tasha set the cup aside and tried to form a sentence, ask Deanna how she was, be polite.

"She's going to be all right, Tasha," Deanna said quietly.

The pain burst in her chest -- wailing rose from deep inside, and before she realized it Tasha was in Deanna's arms, sobbing against her shoulder, with all the anguish flooding up and through her eyes and mouth into the outside world where she sometimes felt foreign.  At some point, Tasha came back from it somewhat, to find that Deanna was rubbing her back and swaying slightly, as the worst of it subsided. She hated crying. Hated feeling sticky and hot, and the way her eyelids swelled.

"It's going to be all right," Deanna said, warm and comforting with just the right amount of firmness. "Tasha, it's all right -- she's going to be fine."

It took a little longer to get her to sit up, and then Deanna replicated a moist, warm cloth to let Tasha wash her face. "What am I going to do?" Tasha asked, tearful and plaintive, while she mopped at her cheeks angrily. She hated crying as much as she hated feeling powerless.

"About what?"

"I'm no good at relationships," Tasha exclaimed, still half-wailing about it. "I'm -- "

"Tasha. Let's take a moment and slow this down. You remember what I taught you before?"

Tasha did what she knew was expected -- taking deep breaths and focusing on herself, on slowing everything down, imagining all the tension was water running out of her and then the space filling with herself. Guided imagery was only somewhat helpful, the breathing did most of the work. "Okay," she said with a wavering smile. 

"I hope so. Want to talk about it?"

"I just -- we broke up," she said, ashamed that she hadn't talked to her friend before now. She usually did, but the idea had been almost panic-inducing. The tears started, but not the wailing. She took a moment to inhale, exhale, and stay calm. "We were having some difficulties -- I couldn't stop feeling like I was doing something wrong."

"But were you?"

"She said everything was fine but she wished I wasn't so anxious about everything. But I have these irrational thoughts sometimes...."

"Like what?"

Thus began the long question and answer, but unlike Dr. Michetti Deanna focused less on asking how things felt, and more on how things were -- as she answered Tasha realized just how much of it really was her anxiety. 

"So think about it," Deanna said at last. "Do you have moments when you go quiet and think about things that make you feel angry, or sad, or worried?"

That came out of nowhere. After a long series of questions about details of interactions between her and Beverly, it felt oddly jarring. "I guess so."

"What does Beverly do when you're sitting together and you're doing that?"

"She just sits. Sometimes she asks me what I'm thinking about."

"Is she upset when she asks?"

Tasha huffed and closed her eyes. "You're going to tell me that it's just hypervigilance and I'm feeling really anxious about doing something to upset her, because I didn't have anyone to care for me when I was a kid and so I never learned how to feel or think about situations other than the survival of my sister in a war zone, scrounging for food and running all the time instead of in school and thinking about dating. You're going to say that some anxiety would be normal for me anyway, but that it's over and above that -- it overwhelms my brain with fight or flight chemistry and keeps my higher level functions from engaging."

Deanna was grinning at her, leaning away, eyeing her with great amusement. "I had no idea you were also a psychologist."

Tasha straightened her shoulders when she realized she was starting to shrug them in as she often did when feeling very threatened. "I thought... you knew. I was seeing Alia for a few sessions."

At that Deanna raised her eyebrows. "No, I didn't. Are you still going?"

Tasha shook her head. "I stopped. I think it was part of why I broke up with Beverly. It was so overwhelming, I would leave a session and have to go exercise for an hour, and then I would get back to quarters and feel... awful. Numb, and then sometimes angry for no reason. Or terrified of absolutely nothing at all, just a jangling and impossible to push away feeling of dread."

"Alia probably told you that therapy can cause some initial worsening of symptoms, since you have to answer questions about the problems first. Did she teach you some things to help you cope with it?"

"We were supposed to talk about that... in the session I skipped." Tasha shrugged sheepishly. 

 "Are you going to make another appointment with her?"

Tasha grimaced. Shrugged again.

"Tasha, I told you many times I worry about you. I still won't push you to do what you don't want to do. But you can't expect Alia to help you in four or five hours with something that's bothered you for years. 

"I know, I know, and it makes sense, but it feels so hopeless, how can I change this?"

Deanna's smile had an odd quality to it.

"What?"

"I was just remembering the time I asked my therapist the same thing," Deanna said. "How do I stop feeling miserable. How do I stop feeling heartbroken. How do I stop being angry at my mother. Also, how to stop feeling other people's emotions so strongly. Because I lacked control back then."

Tasha shook her head. "I can't believe you were ever like that."

"Give Alia a chance, please. Let her develop an understanding of the problem, and start you in neurofeedback. Give yourself a chance."

Tasha thought about what the captain said, and chewed on her lip briefly. 

"This is your journey. Your choices determine where you go next. What is it?"

"Just... something the captain said. Something about not wasting time."

"I don't know if I would say you were wasting time, either way," Deanna said. "It's merely a choice for you to make. How you want life to be right now does shape the future."

"This is a Betazoid thing, isn't it?"

Deanna indulged her for a while longer, talking about choices and life. Finally she got back around to serious things, likely sensing that Tasha had finally calmed down. "Did you want to break up with her?"

"No," Tasha said at once. 

"Maybe you should tell her that." 

Tasha wanted to ask her why, but knew better. She blinked away the prickling in her eyes, putting away the threat of tears.

"You didn't talk to her about much when you were in sickbay earlier, did you?"

"No." The shame choked her.

"It's past dinner time," Deanna said. "You should go eat. And go sit with Beverly for a while. She may even have been released by now, she wasn't as critically injured as I was."

"You're probably right. I don't know how to thank you, Deanna." Tasha fidgeted and thought about it for a minute. "I guess I should make an appointment? Oh, please don't make me go see the other one," she added. Deanna was giving her that warning look that said no. "I don't think I could talk to her again! She's not like you -- I just don't think I could. I don't know her at all."

"You go see Beverly, and if you still feel like making an appointment do that in the morning. All right?"

"Okay," Tasha said with a relieved sigh. Leaping up, she hurried out.

When she came in Beverly's quarters Wes was gone -- his bedroom door was closed. It meant she could go in Beverly's room without discussing it with her son. Beverly was already asleep, snoring lightly. After a moment's thought Tasha went into the bathroom with one of Beverly's night gowns, and after a quick shower put it on and slipped in bed with her, curling up facing her and watching her sleep until she fell asleep herself.

If Beverly could accept her, she wanted the second chance.

"Computer," she whispered. "Lights out."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you are wondering, Tasha's symptoms and problems are an amalgam of those of more than one client of mine, and also more than one friend. Many, many abused people in the world, and some never speak about it. You know a few. You might be one. 
> 
> Just speaking about it is an act of bravery. It helps the other walking wounded, too. No one's alone, they just feel that way because no one can actually see how broken anyone is from the outside. Sometimes the anxiety blinds us, too. Go easy on yourself.

Beverly was glad Wes could get himself off to school on time without her. She felt like sleeping forever. He'd stuck his head in her bedroom door, called out a good bye, and was off -- she moaned and rolled over. Wes had checked on her when he had gotten up and brought her coffee, which was cooling on the bedside table.

When she awakened later she rose ever so slowly and put on her robe, and went out to get a light, very late breakfast. After eating she went about the morning routine. She made her way to sickbay wearing the blousiest loose house dress ever because she just didn't care, and Alyssa subjected her to another gentle round of regeneration and gave her injections. She had just returned to her quarters and settled on the couch when someone rang for admittance.

Tasha bounced in, wearing a big grin with her uniform. "You're up."

Beverly watched her come over with surprise and smiled as she sat next to her. "You're here."

Tasha went shy, looking away and blushing. "I asked for this morning off. I wanted to talk to you."

"Okay," Beverly said, a little uncertain.

Tasha took a deep breath, her chest visibly expanding, and started to speak slowly. "I went to see Dr. Michetti, for a while, as you know. And it was overwhelming, but I know that only means there is a lot more I need to do. I don't want to give you up."

"I'm glad. I missed you."

"It's a lot to ask of you," Tasha went on. "Because I'm not going to be really good for a while. I might be kind of a mess."

"Are you going to let me help you?"

Tasha's steady gaze faltered. "I -- I realized that I haven't told you a lot about things. I was afraid you would decide I was just too broken and you didn't want to be with someone like me."

"You're not a toy, Tasha. You're my friend." Beverly took her hand. "So how's it going to go? Are you going back to see Dr. Michetti?"

"I'm going to talk to her about it. I just wish she were more like Deanna -- I can talk to her and she doesn't give me that stone-faced look. Alia makes me feel like she's judging me."

"Did you tell her that?'

Tasha rolled her eyes and laughed, swaying forward then settling back to lean her shoulder on Beverly's. "You sound like Deanna."

"It's like you keep things to yourself on purpose. Like you think it'll be used against you somehow."

While Tasha tried to think how to respond, the door went off. Tasha bounced over to the chair and immediately went on alert -- she was tense as if someone would attack any second. Beverly knew, because she was a Starfleet doctor after all, that this was a typical response to being startled, for someone who'd been through as much as Tasha.

Jean-Luc came in, and stopped in his tracks upon seeing Tasha.   "I just came to see how you're doing -- not wanting to interrupt," he exclaimed, starting to turn around.

"Jean-Luc," Beverly said. He hesitated and turned back to her. "Thank you. I appreciate your medical services and your calm, while we were on Minos."

"Medical services," he scoffed. "Sitting in the dirt trying not to panic."

"Well, there aren't many people I can think of that I would trust to sit in the dirt with me while I'm bleeding out."

Jean-Luc shook his head at that. She knew he wasn't going to keep talking about it; he was as predictable as Tasha in his anxieties. He came over and sat down in the other chair, facing Tasha across the coffee table but turning to look at Beverly.

"Do you remember Greg Norman?"

Beverly was surprised and delighted at the name. "Yes, he's an old friend of yours isn't he? He met us in San Francisco that one time. Jack thought he was hilarious."

"We're picking up his wife on starbase 198 after leave."

"That will be wonderful," Beverly said with a grin. "I'm looking forward to it. He was so sweet about her -- obsessing about what to get her before he returned home. He asked me for advice. So once she's aboard, what is she going to do?"

"We're taking her to her husband on the _Burbidge_. She's nine months pregnant, by the way."

Beverly and Tasha both gaped at him for a few seconds. Beverly recovered first. "I have to say I'm a little surprised."

"Why?"

"Well, most women don't travel when birth is imminent."

Jean-Luc smiled at that. "Senna isn't human, Beverly. She's Betazoid. She's a month from the due date."

"Oh. Oh! Now why didn't I remember -- " She thought about it. "He didn't tell me that piece. He talked all about what she liked -- I thought she had eclectic tastes."

"We were about to have lunch," Tasha said. "Would you like to stay and eat with us?"

He stared at the young woman and then shook himself out of the surprise. "I wouldn't want to intrude...."

"As if eating a very healthy salad with friends is an intrusion," Beverly scoffed.

For a bit it was all about what food each of them wanted, and Tasha insisted that Beverly sit at the table and let her wait on her. Then they were seated and eating, and Tasha brought up Toriban. Beverly was startled by Tasha's choice of conversation, but upon further reflection it made sense that she'd pick something like where they would be taking leave. Less threatening than discussing work with the captain, and it would keep them off touchy subjects and prevent uncomfortable silences.

"I'd like to try skiing," Tasha said. "Wesley mentioned how much he enjoyed it -- fresh cold air, and the challenge of making it down without falling."

Beverly was amused by that. "Do you even know what it is?"

"Well, no, I haven't done any research."

"I tried it once in the Swiss Alps." Jean-Luc took a moment to drink his water. "Miserable experience."

"What did you break?" Beverly asked.

"I hit a tree -- left tibia, and dislocated my shoulder."

Tasha was agog. "What do you do, what is skiing?"

"In essence, you put two long slats on your feet and slide down a snow-covered hill -- or in my case you pick the hardest run because you're trying to impress your ridiculous friends who don't warn you about anything and fly down a steep mountain out of control trying to stay upright and avoid rocks and trees and other skiers as best you can, until you fall and slide on your back spinning out of control one hundred feet at a diagonal down the slope, knocking down competent skiers and smashing shoulder first into a pine tree. I had to be shuttled to a hospital in Bern."

"That sounds traumatic. Have you done it again, ever?" Beverly asked.

"No. I have had a lot of fun sailing, on the other hand."

"I've been looking at things to do on Toriban -- since it's a human-Tagaran colony there's an interesting blend of activities common to Earth and to Tagar." Tasha took a bite of her sandwich and chewed, pausing as she did so. "There's a ski resort in one of the mountain ranges and they have a lot of snow right now, so that's what we were considering -- taking Wes with us we'd like to find something that he likes to do too. But now I'm second-guessing that -- maybe we should send Wes and his friends along with someone who has experience in skiing, instead of trying to go. I wouldn't want to end up being one of your patients when we're supposed to be having fun."

"We could ask Will," Beverly said, waving her soup spoon. "He's from Alaska. He's mentioned enjoying snow sports."

"I believe he already has plans. He said something about taking Randi to some park, and doing some reptile skydiving." Sometimes Jean-Luc surprised Beverly with his candor.

Tasha snorted. "Only in Starfleet -- what the hell is reptile skydiving?"

"No idea. But it means he probably won't want to skiing if he has something planned with Randi -- that has to be Randi from sciences, and I think she'll want to do something less boring. Hurtling down a hill on snow is nothing to skydiving. I'll send out a message and see who we can find," Beverly said. She smiled at Tasha, then, possibly with a little more feeling than she should have. Jean-Luc was trying not to look at them. "I'm sure Wes won't mind if he's doing something without us -- teenagers like a little freedom, and I know I won't mind having more time to do other things."

Tasha returned the sly look, and picked up the other half of her sandwich. "What are you going to do, sir?"

He seemed uncomfortable with that question, and Beverly thought she could guess why. "I'm not sure yet."

"Something fun," Beverly said, grinning, as Jean-Luc was so obviously uncomfortable -- this was an opportunity. Beverly nudged Tasha with her elbow. "Remember when we got Deanna completely drunk and she told us every sexual position she's ever tried?"

Tasha went red and wide-eyed at the doctor's audacity -- she stared at her captain in horror. Jean-Luc focused on his food with a composure so careful that Beverly knew she'd hit pay dirt.

"How reassuring," he said. When Beverly looked askance at him, he continued. "I don't have to get her drunk to have revealing conversation with her."

Laughter exploded from Tasha, and Beverly joined her. Jean-Luc had that little smug smile that said he was glad he'd weathered that one so well.

"I think we should try that one resort, the Majestic?" Tasha said, moving on as he'd silently begged her to do.

"Let's look at it after lunch," Beverly replied.

Which ended -- as he dropped his dishes in the slot, Jean-Luc turned to give Beverly a subdued smile. "It's good to see you're feeling better."

"Thanks for stopping in. Guessing you're going back to the bridge?"

"For an hour or two. I have a date with a pretty girl later. I thought we would see if she enjoys sailing on the holodeck, before we go to rent a boat on Toriban."

"Well, have fun, then," Beverly said, giving him that smirk again. He scowled at it and headed out the door.

"I know you said you were good friends before, but it always surprises me that he lets you tease him," Tasha said as she brought her dishes over to recycle them.

"It takes a while for him to let you in but he's better once he does. He has his own little idiosyncrasies about relationships, though. It shocked me through and through, when I found out he was with Deanna. He wanted everyone to think he was completely dedicated to Starfleet, but I've always had a suspicion that was just a cover."

"I never thought about it but I guess we all have things we're insecure about," Tasha mused. "I knew he didn't like being informal on duty but I guess it never occurred to me there might be more behind that than just being the captain and having to disapprove of anything that disrupted work."

"Ruler factory," Beverly said with a grin. "Let's look at those resorts. Got a padd? I should be back to normal by the time we get there."

It took very little time for them to agree. The fourth one they looked at, the Lover's Aerie, was unique -- there were the usual resort amenities but also the rooms were in fact small cabins spaced apart across a steep cliffside, built on platforms, each with a small transporter pad all its own to take occupants down to the beach, over to the main building containing the restaurant, shops and spa.

"If we're there and no one else is around...." Tasha looked like the cat that got the cream, smiling wickedly. "It sounds perfect."

"I guess we should make a reservation, then."

 

\---------------------

 

The cliff house they had been provided was four rooms on a platform, with an enclosed deck. Tasha leaped from the transporter pad at the inner end of the deck to touch the panel and watch the clear doors slide back soundlessly, revealing a stellar view of the ocean far below. She stepped back from the edge and turned to see Beverly watching her, holding her bag -- she wore a long sleeved green shirt and tan pants.

"You know what you are?"

Beverly laughed a little at that. "I'm afraid to ask."

"Overdressed."

More laughter, and she headed inside -- the door was already open. Tasha followed and stared openly at the decor -- lush draperies, and plush furnishings, all in dark blues and with gilded trim. An amazing display of opulence. "I've never seen anything like this off a holodeck," she exclaimed in awe.

"You should get out more. This is almost as good as the place I stayed in on Risa," Beverly exclaimed. "Oh! Well, this is something." She let the bag slide off her shoulder onto the bed, and picked up something from a small table near it.

Tasha joined her and stared at the large realistic-looking dildo in her lover's hands. After a few minutes she turned away, shaking her head. Feeling out of breath.

"Tasha?"

"I'm going to look around," Tasha said breathlessly, wandering toward the door at the far end of the room. She went through the bathroom into a sunny nook with windows all around, obviously a kitchen -- there was a replicator and a small coffee maker. Another door at a right angle from the first led her through into a sunny living area, with bookshelves full of actual paper books, a table with a chess board on it, a cabinet that turned out to have other games in it, and a ceiling of transparent aluminum as in the bedroom. All the better to stargaze.

She dropped into the long elegantly-contoured blue couch against the back wall, and tried to breathe deeply and imagine her beach, where she could feel at rest and peaceful -- one of the tactics Alia had taught her to calm down that fear that gripped her.

"You okay?" Beverly had finally followed her, coming to sit near her and putting a hand on her knee.

"I'm sorry -- it just -- "

It caught in her throat. Beverly sat and looked at her, patiently waiting. She thought of another conversation with Alia, talking about whether she would keep withholding information out of fear or begin to share her fears with her partner.

"I guess it's what they call a trigger. It reminded me of -- "

Beverly came at her -- it was almost enough to send her fleeing -- but her arms went around Tasha and something about that comforting embrace loosened the knot in her chest. She realized after a few minutes that she was crying, not hard as with Deanna, but enough to put a hitch in her breathing.

After the tears were stopped and she could breathe without gasping they both sat back. "Want to talk about it? Or just do something else?"

"Like what?"

"There's a really nice tub in the bathroom. Or we could go sit out on the patio with a drink. The awning retracts -- we could sunbathe."

And that was something she'd never done before, just lay in the sun feeling it warm her bare skin. Beverly had something to spray on to keep them from burning, and then they were lounging on the long cushioned deck chairs with replicated mai tais and the occasional breeze tickling along her back. She stole looks at Beverly, pale and beautiful with her hair shining with coppery highlights in the bright Toriban sun. Beverly kept smiling as if keeping a wonderful secret, and eventually they looked at each other simultaneously, and exchanged a grin -- it was a good feeling to know it was mutual. 

And then they heard the distant laughter. Beverly sat up suddenly even as Tasha did, and they turned startled looks on each other.

"Was that who I think it is?" Tasha asked.

Beverly jumped up and went to the railing, peering over it. "I think it is."

"They can't be that close?"

"I think they are. Also sound travels pretty well, I think."

Tasha joined her at the rail. The nearest neighbor to their cliff house was slightly below and off to the right, with just the balcony visible beyond the moss-covered coppery cliff rocks -- there was a woman standing on it, looking out from it, with long waves of black hair. The minute Tasha saw her the woman turned and went out of sight.

"You've got to be kidding," Tasha exclaimed. "What are the odds?"

"Well, she is that same woman who knows more than a dozen sexual positions, and this resort does have certain... amenities."

"Oh," Tasha said softly.

Beverly gave her a questioning look.

"I don't think about him like that. He's the captain."

"He's a man, and I can tell you he used to be quite the lady's man, in a manner of speaking. I guess listening to him and Jack disillusioned me of any notion that he's ever been celibate." Beverly went back to her lounge chair. "Want another drink? Mine is nearly empty."

Tasha watched her take their glasses inside, sat on her lounger, and smiled as Beverly returned and handed her a second mai tai. "I really haven't been thinking things through."

"What things?" Beverly settled on her chair, adjusting the back upwards so she could sip and watch Tasha while they talked.

"You're a doctor. I guess you know all about symptoms like mine. I should probably be your patient too."

"I only know the very minimum about your history but I know Turkana was no cakewalk. Deanna and I did some preliminary research after the ship was launched -- we're responsible for the health of the crew, and so we have to know about the folks who have unique needs." Beverly grimaced. "Turkana wasn't the only failed colony ever -- there are resources for us to draw on. And yes, you aren't the only person I've ever witnessed having a flashback. I put away all the genetalia-shaped toys in the bedroom, by the way."

It almost made Tasha cry again. She took a drink of the mai tai instead, and remembered the list she'd made of things she intended to tell Beverly one day. "There are a few things I wanted to tell you, but I'm not sure that I should do it now or wait til we're back aboard. I don't want to ruin the vacation."

"Tasha," Beverly chided. She paused until Tasha looked at her; Beverly was smiling, but scowling at the same time. "Don't put so much importance in making everything perfect. If we stay together this is not the last vacation we'll have. And we don't have to conform to anyone's idea of vacation -- if the only thing we do on this is talk about things in an environment where we aren't at risk of running off to the bridge at any second, that's fine. As long as we're naked." Her scowl faded as she gave an impudent little shrug.

"I guess I'll have to go back and make an appointment with Alia, after the vacation," Tasha said.

"I thought you didn't like her."

"But she was right about things," Tasha said, laying back on the lounger, her head rolled to the right to look at Beverly. "She was right that you weren't upset with me. She was right that my feelings were all out of proportion and I was overreacting. If she's right about my being able to stop feeling all this anxiety I should go back."

Beverly stared at her with an unreadable expression. 

"Bev?"

"I'm just trying to think why I haven't said anything before now," she said, settling down a little and readjusting the cushion beneath her head. "I think I knew you must be having symptoms of post traumatic stress. But I was worried, and I wasn't sure how you would react if I tried to reassure you that I knew they were symptoms and beyond your control, and I wasn't going to abandon you for something that I knew you could resolve."

For a minute Tasha was angry that she hadn't said anything. But a wave of sadness forced a heavy sigh out of her. "I wouldn't have heard it -- I don't think it would have made a difference. I was way too anxious."

"What about now?"

"I think I'll be all right. I know more than I did about why I feel the way I do, and knowing that you haven't blamed me for it helps a lot. And I'm glad you gave me a second chance."

Beverly lounged on her side, facing Tasha, her head resting on her arm. "I am too. It would have been all right renting one of these by myself I suppose, but it's more fun with someone to talk to, among other things."

"I'm not real sure how I feel about... toys," Tasha said. She almost went on to talk about her experience with Data -- the polywater had addled her brain, and she felt terrible about her behavior. All the flirting with other crew, including people she'd never spoken to before and some she'd known were married or otherwise spoken for, and then dragging Data into a bed for a fondle and a --

She couldn't even think about it now. Staring up at the sky, which was a deeper blue than Earth's, she hoped her cheeks weren't flaming red. She'd had difficulty looking at Data for weeks after, felt terrible about it -- he'd been so curious and so willing, he could be so child-like sometimes, and to think that she had pushed her way into his room and almost insisted --

Somehow, she pushed her childhood away entirely and all at once. She held her breath for a few heartbeats. When her lover spoke again she knew she'd once again successfully avoided detection of one of her internal meltdowns.

"So we don't have to use them," Beverly said, in that lazy voice she used when she relaxed. Which didn't happen often.

"Mmm. The sun feels so good," Tasha said with a sigh. 

"I'm thinking we should just lay here for a while, and maybe if we get hungry have something to eat. Go sit in the hot tub and watch the sun set."

Tasha closed her eyes and was almost asleep when she heard the cry. Her body tensed -- but after a moment her rational mind informed her instincts that it was a cry of pleasure, and they were not on a violent world, and then it occurred to her that it was probably Deanna. 

"Maybe we should close the doors?" she murmured.

Beverly laughed. "Let's play some music. I know you like to dance."

"Only when I've had a few," Tasha said with an embarrassed grin.

"Then let's have a few more mai tais and play some music."

Which they did. Tasha both liked and disliked drinking; it could help her be loose, be silly without embarrassment or second guessing things she said. But it also made her lose a little too much control sometimes. Here, of course, it was as Beverly had said -- there would be no red alerts. No disruptions. No one at the door -- there was no exit or entrance. So she laughed, and danced, and noticed Beverly moved like a real dancer.

"You're really a good dancer," Tasha murmured, stumbling against Beverly's naked chest for the hundredth time.

"I should be. I used to be excellent. Haven't practiced much over the years." Beverly slowed their lurching progress around the deck. "You, on the other hand...."

Tasha's loopy giggle amused herself when she was drunk. It amused Beverly as well. She leaned in and kissed Tasha, a glancing brush of the lips, and more laughter was the result. Kisses were interesting while they were giggling together. When her hand found Beverly's right breast, her fingers tracing the edge of her broad brown aureole, the mirth died away and the dancing slowed to a gentle sway.

Beverly pushed her tongue into Tasha's mouth, her hand came up to caress her cheek, and just like that it was different -- the music played on around them as they stood there kissing tentatively, then more invasively. Tasha's hands slid around Beverly's ribs and her arms tightened, and she hummed a little and pressed in -- their breasts slipped against each other and Tasha's taut nipples ached, so when Beverly's fingers found one and pinched it she gasped into her mouth.

They walk-danced into the house, to the bed, and somehow found their way together onto it. Tasha had been the more aggressive of them most of the time but for once Beverly took charge, not with force but nudging her shoulder and moving on top of her. It caused a spark of anxiety -- but Beverly rose on her knees, straddling Tasha's thighs and raising her arms to gather her hair in her hands and push it back from her face. The sight of her straight and tall with her breasts swaying with the movement of her arms made Tasha smile in anticipation.

"I trust you'll let me know if anything is unacceptable," Beverly said, beginning to lean forward, reaching for Tasha's small breasts.

"Oh." Then as Beverly's mouth found her right nipple, "Oh!" Tasha shoved her fingers in Bev's red hair and kept her head where it was. A shudder traveled the length of her body when Beverly's fingers abruptly came down on the pale patch of hair and confidently slipped down into the gathering wetness below. Tasha whined impatiently and her body went rigid and moved against Beverly on its own urgently.

She didn't have the chance to do anything more than react to the things Beverly was doing to her breasts, her body, her mouth, and she found for the first time that she didn't care. The slow methodical way Beverly made her cry out was paradigm-changing. It was all she could do not to leap up and pounce but when Beverly's mouth descended on her labia for the first time she nearly levitated from the bed. She came at once, and again as Beverly continued to lap and lick. 

Beverly moved off and crawled up to lay next to her, and they came together in a comfortable tangle of limbs. "You all right?"

"Oh, yes, absolutely," Tasha said, grinning.

Beverly propped herself up on an elbow and caressed Tasha's side, leaving her hand draped over her waist. "Why don't you tell me what you like?"

"You mean -- positions, or -- what?"

"Everyone has things that are just okay, or that really turn them on. Everyone has things they don't want to do. We haven't talked about it. I thought we'd start with what we like."

"Everything you just did was great." But it occurred to her that this was definitely one of those things Alia, or Deanna, would encourage her to be open about. So as nervous as it made her, she pushed herself a little. "Except I -- it made me a little nervous to be... pinned down."

"You didn't seem nervous. I wish you'd said something, I don't want to push you into a panic attack."

"It wasn't really anything -- the nerves calmed down when you started touching my breasts." When you loved me, Tasha thought, when you treated me like I was someone instead of a thing. She burst into tears abruptly.

"Tasha?" Beverly pulled her closer and then eased off, and lay there holding her while she sobbed for a bit. "I'm sorry."

"I don't know -- it's not upsetting. I just -- feel terrible, because it's like I couldn't see anything. I was just scared and didn't want to think about anything. And when Deanna and Alia call things out to me for what they are and make it sound like it's not terrifying, there's something to do about it, they don't feel so permanent. And you treat me like what I want matters. I guess I'm... sad." A new rush of tears rose up. "Angry. I used to think life would always be as it was, that we'd be there running and running and running forever, and then Starfleet arrived -- I thought it would all be better now, because we didn't have to run any more. And then all this time -- why do I still have dreams? Why do I still have flashbacks? Why can't I just enjoy this with you and not keep being reminded that people used me and hurt me?"

Beverly kept holding her, and so she couldn't see her lover's face. But Beverly's voice was all she needed -- warm, soothing, not pitying or angry. "I can tell you that being in survival mode for extended periods leaves the body in a state of arousal -- the kind intended to keep you alive, not have sex -- and sets you up for getting into fight or flight mode in seconds, even if it's not something life-threatening. That keeps you alive. The dreams and flashbacks are all reminders of the dangers you face and keeps you ready to keep facing them. Counselors help you reset your mind and body to diminish those symptoms. I could force it with injections, but it's been the case that doing that puts you in a different kind of imbalance. Some of it is psychological. So if there's not an immediate crisis that needs that kind of blunt force intervention, the protocol is to let the problem heal in a more gradual way because it makes you more resilient and emotionally healthy."

Tasha laughed through the remainder of the tears. "You sound so much like a doctor sometimes."

"Well, I wonder why? I try not to with friends. But you asked."

"Thanks for not being irritated with all the tears."

Beverly moved away, rolling on her back, stretching a little. She reached over and took Tasha's hand as if to tell her she wasn't leaving, just getting comfortable. "I told you I do want you to get better. I know what the process is like. Nearly everyone I know is Starfleet, and when you're out here doing what we do, trauma happens. Some people try to handle it alone -- trust me, it's easier if you have help."

Tasha thought about that, wondered about her fellow senior officers -- and then about the captain. He was so calm all the time, so intelligent and rational -- she had looked up to him from the moment she'd met him, and simultaneously wanted to talk to him and not say a word for fear of what he might think of her. The few times she'd met with him one on one had cemented her respect and admiration of him.

"Want something to eat? I'm starting to feel a little hungry, I haven't had anything since breakfast," Beverly commented, moving down the bed and off. Tasha watched her walk around to the left toward the replicator in the corner.

"Maybe some fruit?"

Beverly returned and sat on the edge of the bed nearest Tasha, and fed her bites of fruit, wedges of orange and apple and pear. "What are you thinking about so intently?"

"What you said made me think about the other senior officers -- how anyone who's been in Starfleet for as long as some of them have must have been through something traumatic, but they seem fine." Tasha rolled her eyes, accepted a grape and almost caught Beverly's fingertips with her lips. "Of course, I keep being put on duty, so I guess that means I'm fine too?"

"That's right. It's one of the things about it that can be frustrating, how you can be fine on duty and have problems at home." Beverly sighed. "Not all symptoms of trauma look like trauma. Sometimes it looks like garden variety anxiety."

"The captain -- " She stopped when Beverly's expression turned amused.

"I know you look up to him, Tasha. But I think you'll figure out he's just as human as we are."

"Of course he is," Tasha exclaimed. "But -- "

Beverly moved up to lean against the headboard with Tasha, reclining half on the bed and half off, popping a grape in her mouth. "But?"

"I think he's the first man I've felt safe being alone in a small room with, in a long time. Being in small spaces with someone... it's hard, when there's no escape route and there's no room to move. But I was okay sitting in the ready room with him. He -- I get the feeling he cares, but it's not smothering, or with any kind of intrusive -- you know?"

"He doesn't look at female crew any differently than male crew. He's not the only one, but I know there are a lot of men who aren't like that. Especially very young ones. I tried very hard to raise Wesley to be that way, and it's part of the reason I asked Jean-Luc to spend time with him. Jack was like that too." Beverly chewed on a piece of apple thoughtfully for a minute. "You don't like being in a space where you can't easily defend yourself."

"It isn't that I think anyone is out to get me," Tasha blurted.

"It's about having been in spaces where you couldn't escape, with someone whose intentions are unclear and they are showing an interest you don't reciprocate, and that continues to trigger that same old response despite the fact that you know the person in front of you won't do anything -- I know."

It came to Tasha then, what Deanna had confessed -- that she'd been in therapy herself. "Have you ever had this problem, Bev?"

"I've had similar symptoms," she confessed with a sigh. And Tasha could tell it was something she didn't want to talk about. "Not the same situation, not exactly the same presentation, not exactly the same symptoms. But I know what it's like too, to have a man being intensely interested and being uncertain what he might say or do. I can imagine the combination of the two and how difficult it would be."

Tasha exhaled and glanced up at the sky. The sun had moved toward the horizon, and though the days on Toriban were somewhat longer than what they were used to, it meant sunset soon. "Let's go check out this hot tub you keep talking about. Maybe have another drink?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to note that though it might seem as though Tasha had actually forced Data to do something, what is going on in her head is that she feels as though she did something to him against his will thus becoming a perpetrator herself, which is an extremely common fear that abuse victims can have -- that they will become an abuser themselves. That is, of course, what happens, abusers are victims of abuse themselves, who go on to abuse others, but it's not a guarantee.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is the same conversation in Ten Forward from Chapter 22 of Les Liaisons

"I think you're out of the woods," Beverly told the pregnant Betazoid on her biobed.

"Out of...."

"Sorry, I mean to say you're going to be fine. How do you feel?"

Senna put her hands on the sides of her belly and sighed. "Russell seems all right. I stopped having contractions. I'm happy with that."

"This is your third, you said. So I'll trust you know what to do if you have any further contractions, or unusual pain, and to take it really, really easy."

"I intend to find my cousin and reassure her."

Beverly smiled and watched the woman sit up slowly, standing ready to help her as needed. Senna glanced at her after moving off the biobed to her feet.

"You are good friends with Deanna."

"Yes," Beverly said, suddenly off balance.

Senna's smile was similar to Deanna's -- it was the one Beverly always thought to be two parts affection, two parts 'I can read your mind.' She gripped Beverly's arm in her long fingers and nodded. "Thank you, Doctor."

"Just doing my job." Beverly looked at the baby bulge in Senna's dress. Perhaps a little too wistfully, in retrospect.

"You have a child," Senna half-asked.

"Wesley. He's sixteen. Going on thirty, some days."

Senna's smile shifted to three parts mind-reading and one part affection. "You miss having a baby."

"Well... a little, sometimes, maybe. But that's one of the hazards of being a doctor. I get to see a baby born, it makes me think about it again."

"Perhaps you should have another."

"I don't think that's in the cards at the moment." Beverly thought about Tasha and her problems, and also Wesley and his chronic nervousness about taking the entrance exam again. "Maybe in a couple years I'll revisit it."

Senna touched her cheek and glided off, sailing out of sickbay. "Perhaps I'll see you later, before I depart," she said as she went out the door.

"Alyssa," Beverly began, turning. Her nurse had come up behind her. "Call me if anyone comes in -- I'm going to take a break."

"Of course, Doctor," Alyssa said pleasantly.

When she got home she found Wesley unexpectedly sitting at the table with his padd. "What happened to school?"

"Mr. Grace said I could come home to study -- I'm just working on the physics for tomorrow's exam. Everything okay?" He watched her come sit across from him.

"Yes. Just had a little tension over a patient but all's well. I thought I would head down to have some tea with Guinan for a minute." She smiled, thinking about his father and how much he looked like Jack, especially when he smiled.

He grinned up at her, still holding the padd in front of him in both hands. "So are you about to tell me something? You have that funny look you get."

Beverly laughed at that, feeling like she'd been caught. "What makes you say that? What funny look?"

Wes shrugged. "You get this look when you think about Dad, or you're about to announce something, kind of like the one you had when you came home and told me we were transferring to the Enterprise. Oh -- I bet you're about to tell me about Tasha."

Beverly gaped at her son. "What?"

"Mom," he moaned, rolling his eyes. "She was sneaking out of here the morning after you came back from Minos. I figured you'd tell me about it soon but it's been like days now. You didn't need security in your bedroom all night, and you look at her like -- never mind. I'm not blind, y'know."

Beverly frowned. She hadn't known Tasha had stayed that night, but then, she'd been completely exhausted. There could have been four people in bed with her and she'd have slept through it. "I guess there's no point in denying it. I've thought about telling you, but I wasn't sure how you would take it."

Wesley laughed this time, incredulous. "Really, Mom? Didn't I try to set you up with my math teacher last year? I was totally cheering you on with Captain Picard when we came aboard, I thought for sure from the way you talked about him. Of course, that worked about as well as me asking Susan out -- I was pretty dumb about that, I should have noticed she kept looking at Jake with those big eyes and the goofy grin like yours."

Beverly decided a cup of tea was just what she needed, and stood up again. "Well, I'm glad we have your approval, I suppose. I'm not sure how to feel about your idea about the captain, but it's neither here nor there. I'll let you get back to your studies -- I'll be in Ten Forward if you need me."

He waited until she was almost through the door. "So when's she moving in? Give me notice, I can help her -- we'll use my portable tractor beam."

She didn't even stop, simply walked faster.

It was like magic that Tasha appeared in the corridor outside Ten Forward. They exchanged a hug. "I came looking for you," Tasha said. "How's the patient?"

"She went back to her quarters. Have you met Senna?"

"Briefly. She's like Deanna times ten," Tasha exclaimed, almost bounding alongside Beverly as they went toward the door. "You can feel that harmony and joy radiating off her -- it's like she's completely in tune with the universe or something. I wish I could be that way, at least some of the time."

She sounded almost wistful. There were so many reassurances threatening to pop out. But Beverly knew better. She'd been in that place, where repeated and frequent reassurance felt oppressive and she'd wished people would just shut up already about Jack's death, or her parents' deaths, so she could pretend things were normal for a while. Tasha had been working hard in therapy, she deserved to be left alone in between.

"I'm guessing you will. Maybe you should have Alia teach you to meditate. Deanna said she does it daily. I don't do it nearly often enough myself. Maybe I'll get back to that."

Ten Forward surprised them by being empty, except for Deanna, and when their friend glanced their way it was obvious she was in distress.

Beverly assumed that it must be Senna's difficulty with the baby. "Your cousin is fine. We released her just a bit ago to her quarters. I'm told we'll rendezvous shortly with her husband's ship as well."

Deanna waved that away. "It's not really about her. I'm having difficulty with knowing what to feel, or think, about my mother."

"Oooh," chorused Tasha and Guinan along with Beverly, as if it were terribly obvious why she would. Beverly shook her head, thinking about the elder Troi's visit to the _Enterprise._ Tasha put an arm around her shoulders.

"I think we need more shots," Beverly said. "What's Lwaxana doing now?"

"I found out that she intentionally destroyed my wedding, years ago when I had one scheduled. I called her earlier and tried to confront her about it -- she cried and accused me of lying, and then when I told her that I spoke with Senna about Senna's wedding and how nothing Mother told us was even necessary, she started to wail about what a traitor I was, speaking to Senna after I was forbidden to and turning it all around so she was the injured party."

Tasha glanced at Beverly with an incredulous look and asked, "Your mother destroyed your wedding? I thought it was Will who called it off."

"He did, because Mother insisted that all these awful old traditions had to be followed -- being naked wasn't even a problem. It was being told we'd have to be tattooed all over and get some specific body piercing done, and that it would have to be permanent -- then there were other demands. She told us we'd have to have sex in the middle of the reception in front of everyone. And now that I think about it all, I can see how she kept adding another thing, and another, as each argument resolved and the previous obnoxious tradition wasn't enough -- it wasn't all there was to it, I'm not saying that. We were arguing about other things because we were both stubborn and young and selfish. But she was definitely pushing and testing us." Deanna pressed the heels of her palms to her forehead. "She had the gall to tell me just today that if he had truly loved me he would have done it all, and all she wanted is for me to be happy."

The three of them went silent. Guinan put three shot glasses in front of them -- Deanna drank hers, shortly followed by the others. "Those were for Beverly and Tasha," Guinan said faintly, turning to get two more.

"I'm sorry," she exclaimed woefully. "I'm just so done with it all. Coming here and embarrassing me with the Millers -- acting as if it was all Daddy's idea. Of course she didn't want me to talk to Senna, I would have found out about everything long before now. I would have known Daddy didn't want me genetically bonded to anyone. Senna told me that Daddy considered it but when he found out more about that tradition, he realized it wasn't fair. Mother insisted that we do it."

"I'm afraid I don't understand -- what didn't she like about Will?" Tasha asked, picking up her shot. She put the empty glass back down and patted Deanna's shoulder. 

"Today she dramatically and hyperbolically informed me in the most indirect fashion possible that she didn't want me to be in Starfleet. She thought that Wyatt would bring me back home and we would set up housekeeping, since he was a doctor working in a hospital on Betazed." Deanna snorted at that. "And then he left with the Talarians. She wasn't happy about it but she can't argue with him. There's simply no reasoning with her, unless I do as she pleases I'm making her life difficult. She's proud of me except I don't do what she wants. I'm being inconsiderate, not having a bunch of children for her to indoctrinate, I'm too busy 'listening to people whine about petty things,' as she puts it."

"So I'm going to guess you didn't tell her about Jean-Luc," Beverly said. Not the best thing to say, in retrospect, she told herself.

"Oh -- " Deanna hid her eyes with her right hand. 

"I think she did," Tasha said. Sympathy flickered in her blue eyes as she gazed at her friend.

Deanna moaned and kept her eyes closed. "I told her I was going to live on Earth with Jean-Luc, if I ever left Starfleet. Far from her."

"Wow," Tasha exclaimed. "How'd she take it?"

"She was still shrieking when I cut the transmission. I expect it will take a while for her to stop shrieking. I spent an hour meditating after that and I still feel as though I've been dragged around the dojo a few times."

Guinan put another shot in front of her. Deanna gazed at it miserably, picked it up, drank it, and groaned. 

"I wonder what -- Deanna, have you told Will about this?" Tasha asked quietly. 

"Oh, yes. He's upset, understandably so. Not that it changes anything."

They sat together, commiserating silently and switching to tea after Guinan poured them all a round of lapsang. Then Beverly snorted, feeling better about her awkward conversation with Wesley. It sounded several of orders of magnitude easier to deal with a teen than with Lwaxana Troi or Will Riker. Tasha and Deanna turned to look at her expectantly.

"I was just thinking about something Wes said."

"How is he doing?" Deanna asked.

"Great. I'm the one who's having all the difficulty. I spent all this time worrying about how to talk to him about Tasha, only to figure out he already knew."

"He doesn't seem to have a problem with me," Tasha said. "We get along fine."

"And thanks for the singing stones, by the way," Beverly said, laying on the sarcasm. Tasha chuckled at her ire. "She thinks it's funny when we find another one by accident -- she spread them all over between the sheets and they got pretty scattered, so they keep turning up every so often, humming and singing at the weirdest time."

"Found one on the floor in the closet," Tasha added with a grin. "I put it down her uniform."

"I found out when I got to sickbay that I'm not compatible with two out of three nurses," Beverly said. It led to laughter, which even Guinan joined in. It had been embarrassing, but after a while even she had to see the humor in it. Neither Alyssa nor Teresa had been particularly perturbed.

Deanna glanced around as the door opened -- Ten Forward was nearly deserted, as it was still alpha shift though the tail end of it -- and Will Riker came in. She smiled tentatively, and he came over to them. "Good afternoon," he said.

"Hello, Will," Beverly said. "Pull up a chair. We're helping Deanna not think about crazy parents." Hopefully it would keep Will from whining about his own frustration with Lwaxana.

"Thanks," Deanna said with a roll of the eyes. "I think."

"I suppose that will take a lot of effort, today, after everything." Will didn't sound as upset as Beverly had expected. "How's it going?" He straddled the barstool next to Beverly and nodded to Guinan, who already went about getting him what was probably his usual. 

"She seems happier than when she arrived," Guinan said. She placed a glass of what appeared to be beer in front of Will.

"So you gave me half the box," Tasha said, picking up where she left off. "What did you do with the rest of those singing stones? I seem to remember that box was overflowing."

"Oh, I recycled them," Deanna said, making a point to look only at the tea leaves in her cup. "Too noisy."

Will was immediately interested and amused. Beverly grinned at the thought of Deanna using them and how Jean-Luc might have reacted.

"Noisy?" Beverly exclaimed.

Will chuckled. "Singing stones get louder with telepaths than they do with humans. What did you do, roll around in them with him?"

"I'm sorry, I don't roll around and tell," Deanna chided, setting off another round of laughter. 

"Knowing Jean-Luc he probably found them annoying," Beverly said. "That man must have been born in a ruler factory. Jack used to play clown to his straight man all the time."

"He was born in a winery," Deanna said. When Will and Beverly looked askance at her, she added, "His father made wine, grew the grapes and did it all by hand."

"I think he told us that once before," Beverly said after a moment. "He doesn't really talk about it much." In the distant past, he had been surly at the mention of the childhood he seemed to find distasteful.

"We drank what little of the wine he had left from the vineyard -- I'm thinking of ordering some under my name," Deanna said. "It's exceptional wine."

"Are you going to tell us about Randi?" Tasha asked, leaning back to look around Deanna and Beverly at Will. Her gaze glanced off Beverly's -- this was Tasha doing as she often did, protecting someone she cared about. Beverly nodded; no need for them to be discussing the captain when he wouldn't approve of that.

Will blinked and his eyes went to Deanna immediately. "What should I tell you about Randi?"

"Well... I heard there was some part of your leave spent with her?" Tasha was grinning and licking her lips.

"Some," he acknowledged with a sly grin.

"Uh huh," Guinan muttered. "Anyone need a refill?"

That got a nod from Will; he pointed at his glass.

"Well, come on," Tasha goaded. "How was it? Where did you stay? There were a lot of resorts on Toriban."

"We were going to stay at this big resort where there's a lot of activities and things to see," Will said. "But she talked me into this little place -- more of a hotel than a resort. In this town -- it was one of those places you find from time to time, where people who want to live in simpler times will set up housekeeping. It was a little like being on the holodeck."

Beverly kept her attention on Deanna's face. Deanna was sipping her tea, looking at the countertop instead of anyone, but subtle changes in her face could be telling, Beverly had discovered.

"So we had this little cottage, it was how the hotel was organized, like you have a tiny house to yourself. And there was a small yard for each which made them all spaced apart from each other and gave us privacy."

Beverly raised her cup to her lips to hide the smile, which was a response to the smirk on Deanna's face as he spoke. Whatever Will was feeling, he wasn't telling all.

"So what did you do while you were there? Sleep in?" Tasha grinned and cocked her head, daring him to dish the goods.

Will laughed, leaned back and put his arms over his head, crossing them behind it. "Oh, we took a walk. Went out to eat. Talked. We saw this gorgeous sunrise, from this peak."

"Uh huh," Guinan said again, smiling down at the next pot of tea she was steeping.

"What did you do on leave, Deanna?" Will asked.

"We sat on the balcony of our room and read  _Earth's Place in the Universe_ by Bernard McAndrews, who recorded the early years of Starfleet and exploration -- there were some interesting chapters about the first contact with Betazed. How my grandmother brokered the first treaty and negotiated our membership in the Federation."

They all stared at Deanna now. "I thought Betazed was one of the first members of the Federation," Tasha said.

"Betazoids do have longer life spans than humans," Beverly said.

"You read a book," Will intoned, as if it were the dumbest thing he'd ever heard.

Deanna smirked and sipped tea, looking at Guinan, who was also smirking. "We read a couple of books, there was plenty of time between all the other things we did. If you'd like more information about the other things you can ask the captain when you see him."

Tasha giggled and almost returned the tea she'd just drunk to the cup, lurching forward, trying to contain herself. "I bet if you told him about your leave he'd tell you about his," she exclaimed, leaning back to look at him around Deanna and Beverly. "So did you enjoy your leave, with Randi?"

"We really must get a poker game going," Will said -- likely tired of Tasha trying to pry information about Randi from him. "When was the last time you were in a good poker game?"

"If you're asking me, never," Deanna said. That she did so interested Beverly -- it often occurred to Beverly that being able to sense emotions would lend itself to knowing when to nudge a conversation away from something. Probably that only happened when she sensed it really should, to avoid something no one would want.

"You're kidding." Beverly picked up her tea cup and frowned at her. "You've never played poker?"

"Even I played poker," Tasha said. "Why?"

Deanna shrugged. "Betazoids always get accused of cheating. I prefer other games. Strategy games, or games of pure chance."

"Who would accuse you of cheating?" Tasha wrinkled her nose at the thought.

Deanna sipped and glanced at Beverly with a smile. "If there were a way to turn off empathy completely, I might escape accusation."

"There might be a way -- if you really insist it's necessary. I for one would trust you without the insurance." Beverly smiled back at her, glanced at Tasha, and winked.

"I think I might be in the way, here," Deanna said, spinning about and sliding off the barstool. She went around Tasha to the one on the security chief's left. "Now you can flirt with each other without barriers."

Will guffawed, and took a long draw of his beer, probably to minimize the grin.

And Jean-Luc arrived -- Beverly heard the door and looked across the empty room, and watched her old friend approach hesitantly, taking in the lay of the land. "Good afternoon," he said politely, as he went to sit on Deanna's left.

There was a strange silence for a few minutes. Tasha and Will both suddenly went quiet and still. "Are we close?" Deanna asked. Close to what, Beverly wondered, but clearly Jean-Luc had the context.

"Within the hour, yes," he said. "Earl Grey, please, Guinan."

"Of course." The hostess turned to the replicator.

"Beverly was just telling me that she would trust me to play poker with her," Deanna said casually. Once again, Beverly thought, she was steering the conversation.

"Was she now? Has she ever played poker with you before?"

"No one has. I don't play the game."

Jean-Luc picked up the steaming mug of tea Guinan had brought for him and studied her for a moment. "You've been drinking, haven't you?"

"Oh, why would I do that, after being shrieked at by my mother for twenty minutes about how ungrateful and traitorous I am?" She waved a finger at Guinan, and another tequila shot appeared in front of her. "I don't suppose you have a house in Paris?"

Tasha chose that moment to move into the seat Deanna had left open, and put her hand on Beverly's thigh casually. Which was fine, though it drew Will's eyes and she tensed a little at the stupid grin that flitted across his lips. She didn't want him to comment and make Tasha feel self conscious about it.

"I don't have a house. Should I have one?" Jean-Luc was adopting the dry tone he took when he was being wary of the situation -- being there in front of four senior staff probably felt a little too exposed. Thank goodness he was willing to talk casually with them. It served to draw Will's attention away from Tasha.

"Where do you hang your hat, if you don't have a house?" Tasha asked. Obviously she was determined to follow Deanna's lead and set aside the awkwardness. 

"Hat? I don't wear hats," Jean-Luc said, sounding more innocent than he was.

"Ruler factory," Will said under his breath, grinning again.

Deanna turned her barstool to face Jean-Luc -- Beverly didn't see her face but his reaction was immediate, his expression probably mirroring the affection Deanna was expressing, and he muted it at once, bowing his head over his tea. They sat there that way for a few minutes.

Beverly was stunned. She glanced at Tasha, who shrugged and turned to ask Will about his home in Alaska. Beverly asked Guinan for more tea.

Out of the corner of her eye, Beverly watched the couple next to her while listening to Will talk about the cabin he'd grown up in. Deanna leaned closer to Jean-Luc, not quite touching him, and he turned his head toward her slightly until they were nearly cheek to cheek. For some small amount of time they stayed that way. It was a good sign, Beverly thought. It meant that Jean-Luc might finally be more comfortable in general.

The sound of the door stopped the conversation as everyone turned to look then watched Senna approach. She'd put on a bright yellow and orange and red dress, and put up her hair in a clip similar to the ones Deanna usually wore to put her hair in a bun. It only made the already-tall Senna look taller. She smiled at them, and elegantly reached to place her hand on the back of Deanna's neck.

"You can tell he's closer, can't you?" Deanna said.

There was a quiet moment -- from their expressions Beverly could tell they were communicating mind to mind. Then Senna smiled pleasantly, and her dark eyes flicked from Deanna, to Tasha and Beverly and Will.   "I don't believe I have met all your friends?"

"Tasha Yar is our security chief," Deanna said, glancing at the young woman. "And Guinan is our hostess, here in Ten Forward. You've met Will and Beverly, I know. This is Senna. My cousin."

Senna tilted her head, gave Tasha an enigmatic smile. "Tasha. How lovely you are." Her dark eyes traveled down to Tasha's hand, still resting on Beverly's thigh, and back up to her face. Tasha glanced down at the floor, unable to maintain eye contact. Beverly found herself doing the same.

"Are you feeling better?" Will asked. There was some mild discomfort in his tone.

But Senna smiled at him warmly and nodded. "I am, Mr. Riker. Thank you for your concern. I regret the misunderstanding we had earlier."

"I'm glad it was resolved."

"Bridge to captain." Worf's voice startled Beverly.

"Yes, Mr. Worf?" Jean-Luc put down his cup, turned slightly in his chair and was ready to depart.

"We are dropping out of warp at the rendezvous point. The _Burbidge_ reports that they will arrive within ten minutes. Captain Norman said that he will beam aboard when they arrive."

"Thank you, Mr. Worf."

"We'll wait here," Senna said.

"You don't want to meet him in the transporter room?" Tasha asked.

"I hate transporter rooms. They remind me of all the times I've been in them, seeing people leave." Senna went to lean against the bar next to Jean-Luc.

"You've seen Greg leave a lot over the past years," Jean-Luc said.

"And I have left as well. What is it you say, absence makes the heart grow fonder?" Senna laced the question with just the right amount of sarcasm. "One of those peculiar human sayings I don't understand."

"Do you mean that absence makes you care less?" Tasha asked. Beverly sat up straighter and shot a look at Will.

Senna shook her head. "I mean that it does not change how I feel about someone at all. Why would it?"

"We're perhaps more aware of how connected we are to people," Deanna put in. "It's more difficult for us to break off relationships as well. Tasha has been very curious about Betazoids, Senna, I think because we've become such close friends. She knows she can ask questions without offense."

"You have good friends," Senna said. "All of them are quite lovely."

Beverly shifted in her chair, unsure of how to take that. Deanna grinned, glancing around at all of them. "You're going to be called that if a Betazoid likes you. There's no word in Standard but 'lovely' is as close as it can get when we think you're incredibly attractive as a person."

"You haven't educated them very well," Senna said, her tone mildly scolding. "You are making the mistake of simply ignoring everything and acting as if you are human as well, aren't you?"

Beverly hadn't seen Deanna look embarrassed so often, but she did now, looking down at the floor. "Mother didn't understand that, either. It's simpler to be quiet most of the time. It causes people to be too self-conscious around me, to do otherwise across the board. It's a large crew, and most of them have to see me if they need counseling."

Senna nodded at that. "It must be lonely."

Deanna kept looking at the floor. Beverly felt sympathy; they had had discussions about it before, how to handle being friends with many of the people they worked with, while working in the healthcare field. But Deanna had the extra layer of her empathy to deal with and that had always seemed to Beverly to be more of an issue for her than she ever revealed to any of them.

"Lonely, or alone by choice?" Guinan asked softly, as she raised a teapot to refill Jean-Luc's mug. "I think the latter would be more accurate."

"There is a difference," Deanna said. "But both apply, sometimes. Though less often than before."

"Well, I hope not," Beverly exclaimed. She eyed Jean-Luc over Deanna's back. To his credit, he didn't look away.

And then the door to Ten Forward opened, and an officer ran in -- instead of going around a table and chairs he flew over the one that lay directly in his path to Senna, an impressive jump for a silver-haired human. Two of the chairs fell away with a clatter in his wake. He leaped at his wife and they embraced one another for a while, clearly wrapped up in their own little world, and no one wanted to speak or do anything to interrupt it.

The couple parted at last, beaming at each other, then Greg focused on Jean-Luc, who'd come off the barstool in anticipation. "Johnny! How are you?" he exclaimed, grabbing his friend's hand and shaking it firmly while clapping his other hand on Jean-Luc's arm.

"Well enough -- you know, you missed a few tables on the way in." That was Jean-Luc as she remember, the informal side of him that she had expected to see when she'd come aboard the _Enterprise_. Beverly smiled but was a little disturbed by it. She'd thought he'd just gotten more formal with time. 

Greg laughed, yanked Jean-Luc into a rough hug -- the interplay between the two was startling to Tasha, who glanced at Beverly and at Will as if to ask if they were all seeing this. Senna watched them with a happy smile.

"I missed you -- I understand you might have a good bourbon with our names on it, can you spare a few hours?" Greg exclaimed.

"Of course. You'll all excuse us," Jean-Luc said, leading the way toward the door, and Deanna shot Beverly a look before following. Greg winked at Beverly as he escorted his lovely wife along in their wake. Once they were gone, Tasha made an indistinct little sound and asked for something stronger than tea.

"I think he's changed," Will said.

Beverly turned back to the bar and picked up her tea again. She studied Will briefly. "You think so?"

"You think not?"

She knew she was in a unique position, but also knew the minute she started gossiping behind Jean-Luc's back about him, things would change. She noticed Tasha giving her a wary look. "Have you changed at all since you came aboard?"

"I like to think so. It's certainly been an experience, between Q, and Lore, and the Bynars. Being thrown out of the galaxy." He brooded into his glass, clearly lost in thought at that point.

"Have you changed?" Guinan asked, gazing across the bar at Beverly.

"Not as much as Will or Jean-Luc. But yes. I'm starting to," Beverly said. She smiled at Tasha and winked.

"What was it he said... Starfleet will push you, stretch you, mold you in ways you didn't expect. It will present you with the opportunity to do the impossible." Will drank the last of his ale and set the glass down with a thunk.

"Who said that?" Tasha asked.

"Jean-Luc Picard, when he came aboard and had a drink with Captain DeSoto. About two years ago."

Beverly estimated that was in that gap between the two ships -- she nodded. "So off duty. And you expected him to be similar, when you got here. I expect you understand that better than you did?"

"I understand that he's formal on duty. That's not entirely unexpected. But -- " He appeared to run out of words, and patience; he waved his hand.

"He's the finest commanding officer I've ever had," Tasha said, earnest and with all the fondness she had for her captain warming her tone.

Beverly turned to Will, mostly because Tasha's worship of their CO made her feel jaded and old, because she'd known him when. "You know what's changed about him?"

Will blinked at that, raising his head and turning to gaze at her expectantly.

"He's finally found someone who makes him happier than Starfleet does." Beverly turned and left her seat. "Tasha, would you mind if I imposed upon you for a private karate lesson?"

"Sure. Let's go get changed. See you later, Guinan."

Tasha linked arms with her as they left. Once outside the door, she giggled a little. "I didn't expect you to say something like that."

"Why?"

Tasha's mouth hung open for a few seconds. "I, I guess you wouldn't necessarily see it -- he's still a little upset, about the captain being with Deanna."

"Then he needs to get his head on straight, doesn't he? Do you think I was telling the truth?"

Tasha bit her lower lip. "I think they're both happier than before, yes."

"Then the sooner Commander Riker owns that truth, the happier he'll be. Computer, deck eight."

 

 

 


End file.
